


The Girl At The Rock Show

by maryangel



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-03
Updated: 2009-09-03
Packaged: 2017-10-15 16:52:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 63,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/162878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maryangel/pseuds/maryangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>HS AU. High school sucks, parents suck. Frankie is a 15 year old punk rock chick who pretty much hates her life. Her parents are always fighting, her mom is a bitch, she is not really popular.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Girl At The Rock Show

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/collar_blue/profile)[**collar_blue**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/collar_blue/) and [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/allyndra/profile)[**allyndra**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/allyndra/) for the super fast beta.

Frankie was late for school. She hated being late. She had to rush through the quiet corridors. She was trying hard not to trip over her own feet or her stupid shoelaces. She was late and it was her parents' fault once again.

They held one of their screaming matches the night before and Frankie had to steal one of her mom's Temazepam pills to get some sleep. Of course, she didn't hear her alarm go off the next morning. Of course, she was in a haze, her head swimming when she climbed down the stairs to get breakfast, still in her sweat pants and the washed out Misfits t-shirt she always slept in. Then, she took a glance at the clock up on the kitchen wall and it did a great job at waking her up.

Her mother, who was obviously late for work and was looking all puffy, probably from crying, dropped her at the front gate about five minutes after the bell. She didn’t seem to care that Frankie was late. She didn’t seem to care that Frankie was wearing the same clothes from the day before, her shirt wrinkled, hanging over her skirt, a little dirty from sitting in the lawn behind the cafeteria. Her hair also looked like crap but Frankie didn't really have time to fix it anymore.

There was a boy coming out of the restrooms, disheveled, staring down at his shoes, his laces untied in a dangerous jumble. He was carrying a notebook, clenched in his ink stained fingers and Frankie could clearly see the shape of a pack of smokes in the front pocket of his pants, or at least what Frankie assumed to be a pack of smokes.

Frankie froze in her tracks, temporarily forgetting about Mr Constanzo’s zombifying Geometry class and the pop quiz she was supposed to partake in on this cold Friday morning and watched the boy drag his feet on the stained linoleum of the hallway until he disappeared behind a corner. He looked like he was in pain or maybe hungover, as if the dim sunlight was too bright for his eyes. He also looked like he wasn’t a big fan of daily showers judging by the oily shine to his hair and the strong smell of cigarette and something else, something a bit musky trailing after him.

Frankie didn’t get a good look at his face because his hair was covering most of it but he looked pale, maybe even sickly. The boy was ditching and Frankie wanted to follow him more than anything. There was something about the boy, something weirdly intriguing, something maybe a little compelling. He looked far more interesting than Geometry anyway.

The door of the restrooms slapped open and shut again and Frankie snapped out of her reverie and started jogging down the hall, the sole of her sneakers squeaking with each step. She combed her hair with her fingers and smoothed out her plaid skirt before taking a peek inside the class through the small window, feeling a little like she was at the zoo. Everyone was already hunched over their desks, little monkeys with their pencils scratching restlessly. Old Rat Constanzo was pacing up and down the rows, hovering. He even sniggered at the shortcomings of his students like the bastard he was.

Frankie was trying to decide if she really wanted to go to her Geometry class today. She wasn't going to ace her quiz anyway, she didn't really have time to study for it last night because she was listening to her stupid parents fight over stupid things like gas money and groceries and fucking utility bills.

Her parents always managed to find the most boring things to fight over. They blew every single thing out of proportion, making the tiniest issue, like whose turn it was to take out the trash sound like the end of the world. It was their thing and Frankie usually managed to stay out of it, as long as she could block out their screams by blasting some extremely loud and extremely angry music.

Frankie knew that everyone was going to glare at her as soon as she'd step inside the classroom and Constanzo was going to be a bastard and maybe take off a few points from her final grade just on principle that he was a bald douche who couldn't get laid even if he paid someone. Frankie desperately wanted to follow the boy outside. Maybe she could still catch up with him and bum him a cigarette.

But she knew she couldn’t afford to flunk Geometry. Her mom would kill her if she did. She braced herself, taking a deep breath and swallowing the lump in her throat before pushing the door open with a sweaty palm.

  
*

  
“Who's that dude?” Frankie asked through a mouthful of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

It was the second time she saw the boy. It was a week later and Frankie's stomach leaped when he appeared, walking out of the school building, looking tired, dark circles under his eyes and as untidy as he seemed the last time. He wasn't handsome. No, handsome didn't really cover it. He was pretty, a peculiar kind of pretty now that she could see it more clearly without the curtain of dirty black hair blocking the view. He was a little girly too. Damn, he was more feminine than Frankie. His cheeks were round and pudgy, the nose, short and pointy and he had pimples on his chin. He was looking up at the sky, completely oblivious to the world around him.

Bob flicked a handful of grass at Frankie and asked “Who?”

Bob knew pretty much everyone. It was probably because he was a senior, though for some reason, he chose to spend most of his time with Frankie and her best friend Alicia, both only sophomores. Maybe Bob liked being surrounded by girls. It was probably good for his reputation although it wasn't something he seemed to care about. Bob wasn't that kind of guy. Maybe he hung out with them was because he could be a sarcastic asshole sometimes and Frankie and Alicia seemed like the only ones to get him and his special brand of humor. Maybe it was because Frankie could be a sarcastic asshole too on occasions. Or maybe Bob was hanging out with them because he had a thing for Alicia.

Frankie met Bob when she was still in junior high, at the record store where he worked on the weekends. She was pretty much haunting the place, even before Bob started working there.

She loved records, the smell of dust and the way the vinyl felt under her fingertips, she loved the crackled sound they made when she played them on her old turn table, the one her dad bought her at a garage sale a couple of years ago as a belated birthday present. Frankie's dad wasn't good at remembering dates but he sure mastered the art of making amends.

The true love of Frankie's life was punk rock, although she listened to the occasional Bowie and Otis Redding. Maybe because he was her dad's favorite. Her not so secret ambition was to become a stage hand, a roadie or maybe a tech for a kickass punk band, maybe The Bouncing Souls if she could ever get that lucky. She couldn't really play or anything even though Bob tried to teach her how to read notes and shit. She figured it wasn't important to know what C flat or E sharp sounded like as long as she could carry amps and other stuff around.

Punk rock bands were the reason why she became friends with Bob. He liked most of the same bands although he was also into metal. He listened to Frankie when she rambled on and on about Henry Rollins and Keith Morris and why Rollins was the best choice for Black Flag. Bob was kind of an awesome listener.

"Who the fuck are you blabbering about, Iero?" Bob asked again, kicking Frankie in the knee to get her attention.

“Ow, fucker. I'm talking about him,” she grumbled, pointing her chin at the boy and rubbing her poor knee before kicking Bob in retaliation, the toe of her ratty old Chuck poking at Bob's shin. “The guy who’s about to run into a tree,” she added just as the boy passed them, his eyes still fixed at the sky. Maybe he wasn't going to run into a tree but he still looked like he was miles away from here.

“Oh. That’s Gerard,” he replied as if Frankie was supposed to know this already. Was Gerard some kind of celebrity around the school? Did she miss the memo telling everyone he was the resident weirdo or something? Every school had one and the guy looked like the perfect candidate in spite of his pretty face.

“You know him?” Frankie asked before shoving the rest of her sandwich into her mouth and chewing loudly.

Bob shrugged. “I know a guy who knows him. They play D&D together. They have a club and everything. Oh, and he's Mikey Way's brother. Why do you ask?”

“Nothing. Random curiosity,” she mumbled, unable to look away from the boy. “He looks weird.”

Frankie knew Mikey Way. Everybody knew Mikey Way. Mikey Way was a lanky, odd, awesome and hilarious kid who was pretty popular even though he was a huge dork. He was only a year older than Frankie. He hung out with all the cool people. He went to the same parties and gigs as Frankie. Mikey didn't look anything like his brother.

“I heard he's into dudes,” Alicia announced in a casual tone. She shot a glance at Frankie and smirked like a little shit. “And he's apparently a cock slut too. You know, as in, he gets paid to suck cocks,” she added quite uselessly before she made this obscene blowjob motion with her tongue and her fist. "Or at least that's the buzz going around at the drama club."

Gerard didn't look like he was a slut but maybe he was one. Frankie didn't have a built in cock slut radar or anything. Gerard was probably too pretty to be into girls, though. He had a pretty mouth and even though his hair looked filthy, it was black and long and the wind kept pushing it away from his face. Frankie was mesmerized and maybe a little smitten, now that she thought about it. Just a little.

“Shut up, Alicia," Bob hissed as he threw an empty can of Red Bull at her. It was all he drank. Frankie was starting to think his blood was at least ninety percent energy drink. "It takes a cock slut to know a cock slut,” he chided just as Alicia lunged at him, straddling him and shoving a handful of grass in his mouth. Bob squirmed under her and pushed her unceremoniously, spitting a wad of saliva and grass towards Alicia who was split in half, laughing.

Sometimes, Alicia and Bob looked like they were a couple. It was something in the way they bickered and the way they touched. They both denied it though. Maybe it was just so Frankie didn't feel like the third wheel when they hung out together.

Alicia Simmons was pretty and tall and she didn't look like a tomboy, not like Frankie. She was prettier than Frankie and way cooler too. She already had boyfriends and went on real dates, something Frankie had yet to experience. Boys around school seemed to like Alicia. They talked to her, flirted with her and didn't throw paper balls in her hair like they sometimes did to Frankie. Alicia wanted to play bass or maybe be a roadie like Frankie. The details were still a little fuzzy but they had time to figure things out. Their shared dream was probably why they became friends in the first place in spite of all their differences.

Frankie wiped off the sandwich crumbs from her skirt, absent-mindedly, and looked up at Gerard again. He was staring at her now, sat in the grass, at the far opposite side of the lawn, almost hidden in the shadow of the bleachers. Frankie smoothed out her hair and tucked her long bangs behind her ears, something she always did when she was nervous. Why was she nervous? Then, she realized Gerard was probably not looking at her. It looked like he was seeing through her, just like everyone else in Frankie's life.

  
*

  
Frankie hated gym class with a fiery passion. She couldn't run fast enough, probably because she smoked like a chimney, probably. She couldn't catch things and was always picked last. Well, it was a draw between her and Tracey, the big girl who wore a back brace and seemed to have two left feet.

Frankie decided ditching was the only available option and that going up on the roof to have a smoke before lunch was a good alternative to running in a pair of smelly shorts and trying not to get hit by the ball in the face. She bruised easily.

She expected to be alone up there. The potheads mostly hung out under the bleachers and the girl's bathroom was the realm of the cunts, the same cunts who liked to spread rumors about weird anti-social guys being cock sluts.

The roof was Frankie's own little corner of the world, a place where she could forget about school, grades, popularity contests and also about her stupid parents. That morning, Frankie particularly needed to forget about her parents.

Her dad decided to split. Just like that. No goodbyes and no explanation, as lame as they always sounded in movies. _Sorry, Pumpkin, but your mom and I don't love each other anymore. But we still love you very much._ None of that crap. He just packed his clothes and everything he owned that could fit in a cardboard box and left. Frankie wasn't even home when he shoved his things in the back seat of his car and drove away. She could see it very clearly in her head though.

Frankie didn't even blame him for splitting. Her mom called him a coward and an asshole one too many times, probably threw one of her tantrums, complete with the china that had kittens on it flying across the kitchen. Frankie knew everything had to be her mom's fault. She could be such a fucking bitch. Sometimes, Frankie really hated her mom. Sometimes, she wished she could just split too. Anywhere. Far away from Belleville.

Frankie was sitting on the ledge, watching the world move at her feet, cars and people and dogs, all just passing by the school, looking busy living their stupid boring lives. She felt the air, cold against her cheeks and the wind carried the sound of sirens in the distance, her cigarette slowly turning to ashes between her fingers and then, she heard footsteps behind her. She turned quickly, dropping her cigarette down between her legs, her eyes wild and her heart skipping a beat, afraid she was going to be expelled for the ditching or the cigarette or maybe because no one was supposed to be up there. It was presumably going to be a combination of the three.

It wasn't anyone who could have expelled her though. It was Gerard. He looked at her, a little surprised as he stood there, completely still for a few seconds. He was probably trying to find a quiet place to do his usual...whatever it was that he did. He eventually unfroze and sat down on the ledge, a few feet away from Frankie, digging through his jacket pockets for his smokes and his lighter.

Gerard was staring at his unlit cigarette as if it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen and Frankie was starting to feel a little uncomfortable. When he finally placed the cigarette between his lips, Frankie had fumbled to her feet and was standing behind him. She wanted to talk to him. Maybe just to say _Hi_ or _Can I bum a smoke?_. Just for the sake of saying something.

Gerard lit his cigarette and Frankie took a step towards him. She bummed cigarettes from total strangers all the fucking time. It wasn't a big deal. Besides, Gerard could spare her a smoke on the account that he was currently sitting on _her_ roof and a cigarette would have been a little like paying her a toll. One cigarette for every minute on her roof.

Frankie stared at the back of Gerard's head for a few seconds, chewing on her bottom lip and licking it, trying to figure out why she was feeling so stupid and inadequate around a guy she didn't even know. She cleared her throat after a long and awkward silence and Gerard turned to look at her over his shoulder, the cigarette dangling from his mouth.

Frankie smiled and tucked her hair behind her ears. She needed to cut that shit, shave it, maybe.

Gerard smiled back, probably just to be polite, before taking the cigarette out of his mouth and flicking the ashes down. The wind carried them back to the roof and some landed in Gerard's hair. He didn't seem to care. He didn't even try to shrug the ashes off his shoulder. He turned away from Frankie just as she was opening her mouth to say something. The bell rang and Frankie closed her mouth. The guy obviously didn't want any company and Frankie wasn't really great at small talk anyway.

  
*

  
Sometimes, Frankie sneaked out of her room. It wasn't something she particularly enjoyed doing; it was something she was forced to do because her mom was a controlling bitch. She had all these stupid rules about not going out on school nights and not hanging out around boys. She didn't like Bob too much for some reason. Frankie didn't sneak out to piss off her mom, even though pissing off people was kind of hilarious. There was always a band Frankie wanted to see somewhere in town and her mom was just too stubborn to understand. Climbing out of her window while her mom was passed out from her sleeping pills in the next room was the only solution.

There was this oak tree right outside of her window that her dad always said he would trim but never did. The branches were pretty solid and they were right there, within Frankie's reach. Frankie wasn't really the best at climbing things that were not Bob and it took her a few tries, a couple of broken toes and some bruises on her ass and on her forehead before she mastered the subtle art of landing on her feet without hurting herself in the process. Climbing back up at ass o'clock at night was also a challenge and she was barely starting to get the hang of it. She was caught a couple of times before, during her earliest attempts. Both times, by her dad. He was coming home from work, late as usual. He waited until she landed on her feet on the lawn and walked her back inside the house. No punishment, no yelling about how fucking irresponsible she was. He never even told on her.

That particular night, it was a local pop punk rock band playing in this shitty club downtown that Frankie loved and Frankie could not miss it for the world. The gig was all ages and everyone who didn't have a bitch for a mother was going to be there. Everyone that mattered anyway. Everyone except Alicia and Bob who punked out on her at the last possible minute. Bob had band practice with his buddy Ray Toro and Alicia was on a date. She was on a fucking date on a Wednesday night with this dude Pete Wentz and her mom let her go. Frankie wasn't a big fan of Wentz though. He was loud and a little obnoxious and she was pretty sure everyone in school had already seen his dick on his Geocities page.

Frankie landed on the unkempt lawn without breaking anything and started walking up to the corner of her street, trying to look inconspicuous, her hands buried in the front pocket of her black hoodie, fumbling with her pack of smokes, idly.

There was this guy Bob knew, Matt Rubano. He had a car and he lived only a few blocks away from Frankie's house. Frankie didn't really know him that well but Bob promised her he was cool and that he wasn't going to try to look under her skirt, even though Frankie had substituted her school plaid skirt and her white shirt for her usual concert attire, a pair of tight ripped jeans and a Batman and Robin t-shirt that was starting to get a little too tight, especially around the chest.

Rubano, or Jewbano as Bob called him, was a funny guy. He was also kind of cute and a nerd, a perfect combination, as he complimented Frankie on her wardrobe. Apparently, he liked Batman too which gave him a few bonus points.

The drive to the club was pretty entertaining even though Matt's car didn't have a working stereo. Matt picked up a couple of his friends on their way to the gig, both hilarious and kind of really stoned too. One of them was called Adam and seemed to be stuck in a giggle loop. Frankie didn't get the other guy's name, probably because he never said it. After cracking a joke about peanut butter and dicks, his head started drooping and he looked like he was going to fall asleep on his buddy like he had narcolepsia, narcoleptic, narcolepsy or whatever that disease where you fall asleep all the time was called.

The club was packed, the air was heavy and it smelled of sweat, beer and cigarette. The smell and the faces around her, everything felt familiar. It felt like being home again.

Unfortunately for Frankie, she lost her new friends almost as soon as they walked through the doors. It looked like she was going to have to find herself a new ride home but she didn't really mind. Worst case scenario, she would walk or hitchhike. It wouldn't have been the first time she was left stranded after a show. She still remembered that one Social Distortion show a few months back. Bob had to drive Alicia home because she was sick and Frankie had to walk home by herself. She managed to avoid running into a drug deal or some other kind of dangerous activity and ended up making friends with a stray black cat that she named Professor Sniffles because the thing kept sneezing at her, as if it was allergic to human beings. The mangy old animal followed her for about two blocks, rubbing against her legs and meowing loudly before disappearing behind a street corner, probably to chase after mice or bigger things that Frankie didn't really want to think about.

Frankie elbowed her way through the mosh pit and struck up a conversation with an older woman who had the most interesting collection of tattoos on her sleeves. She was some kind of tattoo artist. Frankie told her how her mom would never let her have one and Kat, that was her name, told her she could always wait a few more years and drop by her parlor when she was legal. "I'll give you the awesome chick rebate," she said and that was the last thing Frankie heard before the music started blasting. Frankie lost yet another one of her single serving friends when the crowd gathered tighter around her and started pushing.

Frankie was tiny. She probably didn't look like much in the middle of a mosh pit surrounded by guys who were twice her size. People and particularly guys usually hesitated a few seconds before pushing her back. Maybe they were afraid to break her.

It usually only took Frankie a couple of seconds before she was all systems go and before she started bouncing all over the place, shoving, screaming, kicking.

She loved everything about mosh pits. She loved the warmth and smell of sweat, the energy and the contact of bodies in constant motion around her.

The music was good too. The band wasn't rocking her face off or at least not yet since they were just getting started but Frankie liked them. The bass player was kind of cute and he had a nice voice.

Frankie was about to concert-call Alicia, just to make her feel bad for abandoning her and because she knew Pete Wentz liked the band and was probably going to be pissed off that he wasn't there when someone pushed her in the back, hard. So hard, she almost dropped her phone.

She turned around, tucking her phone back in her pocket, ready to push back whoever was responsible for the almost loss of her cell phone. She was a little surprised to see Gerard, standing behind her, looking a little flushed, his mouth opening and closing.

"What?" Frankie asked, screaming loud enough to be heard through all the noise and the music.

Gerard leaned forward, pushing his hair out of his face. "I said, I'm so sorry," Gerard screamed back, looking genuinely sorry. It was a first for her. People rarely apologized in mosh pits. Not to her anyway. Not until now.

Frankie smiled and screamed, "It's a fucking mosh pit, dude. Don't have to apologize."

Then, there was some movement in the crowd and Frankie was violently pushed back against Gerard. She grabbed his arm to keep her balance, her fingers clutching around the sleeve of his denim jacket.

"Are you okay?" he asked, putting his hand on top of Frankie's and taking a few steps back, slowly retreating out of the mosh pit where things were getting wild. His hand was kind of moist but Frankie didn't mind. It was smooth and warm.

Frankie let go of Gerard's arm, her hand sliding away under Gerard's and giggled nervously. "I'm good. Thanks."

She turned back towards the stage where Midtown was wrapping up the first song of their set, feeling her cheeks turning red. She took off her hoodie and wrapped it around her hips. She was combing her messy hair with her fingers when she heard Gerard say something behind her.

"They're really food."

His breath brushed up against her ear and her neck. She screwed her eyes shut for a few seconds and bit her bottom lip. This felt good. Then, she realized what Gerard said didn't make any sense. She looked over her shoulder and Gerard was smiling at her.

"What?" she asked, frowning.

Gerard leaned closer and screamed, "They are really good." He even put his thumbs up to emphasize his point. He looked like a fucking dork and Frankie had to hold back a giggle. He said good. Not food. That made more sense.

Frankie nodded and grabbed Gerard's hand. She pulled him closer, elbowing some guy in the stomach to make some room next to herself for Gerard. He looked a little taken aback for a moment before letting himself be dragged deeper into the mosh pit.

"That way we can talk and shit," Frankie screamed as she let go of Gerard's hand.

Gerard gave her a coy smile, his hair falling back on his face and Frankie was pretty sure she could have had a crush on him if he hadn't been into guys.

  
*

  
Midtown rocked her face off. It wasn't really late when they wrapped up their set but Frankie didn't really want to stick around much longer, in case her mom decided to check on her. She looked around the club for a few seconds, trying to locate Matt or some other familiar face, someone who could possibly give her a ride, before giving up.

When she walked out of the club to get some fresh air, her t-shirt damp with sweat sticking to her skin and her hair plastered to her face, Gerard was following her. Frankie wasn't really expecting it but it was nice to have some company and Gerard seemed like a nice guy.

"You thirsty?" he asked Frankie as he sat down next to her on the sidewalk. He pushed his sweaty hair away from his sweaty face and looked at her. He smelled like old gym shorts and Frankie saw a hole in his jeans, right in the middle, between his legs.

"I'm good," Frankie replied, trying not to stare too much at Gerard's strategically ripped jeans. She untied her hoodie from around her hips and put it around her shoulders. The air was starting to feel a little cold against her wet skin and, giving her epically shitty immune system, she was on the right track to catching pneumonia. Stretching the hoodie until it covered most of her skin, she turned to Gerard. "You have smokes?"

Gerard bent back and pulled a slightly squashed pack of cigarettes from the front pocket of his jeans. His jeans were almost as tight as Frankie's. For a minute there, all Frankie could see was Gerard's crotch, his bulge pushing up, obvious. Then, Gerard dropped a couple of cigarettes in his hand, the last ones in the pack and handed one to Frankie.

He was lighting Frankie's cigarette when he said, "You're up on the roof a lot."

This didn't really sound like a question but Frankie replied anyway, the cigarette stuck between her lips making the words sound more like a mumble. "Yeah. It's my safe haven away from assholes."

Gerard smiled and lit up his own cigarette before blowing the smoke towards the night sky. "I like it up there too. It's peaceful. I can watch the clouds," he said as he crushed his empty pack of smokes and dropped it between his legs, in the gutter. "I can think better," he added, pocketing his lighter and looking up again.

There was a long silence, only interrupted by the faint sound of music and conversations going on inside the club. Frankie looked up at the sky but there was nothing to see. "It's weird how there are no stars tonight," she said after a while, just to say something. She took a drag on her cigarette and turned to watch Gerard and his delicate profile.

He looked at her with a smile and said, "They're all there." He waved the hand holding his cigarette around, pointing it at the sky. "You just can't see them because of all the pollution and the lights," Gerard explained as he ashed his cigarette.

A group of boys walked out of the club, visibly drunk and incredibly loud, and Frankie mechanically shifted closer to Gerard. She didn't really need his protection or anything because she could hold her own, but it was nice to know he was there. He didn't seem to notice though as he was lost in his silent contemplation of, well, nothing.

"I can never tell which one is which, you know," Frankie said, blowing the smoke upwards. She felt a little stupid. Gerard knew things, and she couldn't even name one constellation to save her life.

"I like giving them other names. Like, the Zombie Nebula or Lugosi's Sparkly Fangs or," he hesitated before adding, "Twinkie Twinkle". He sounded dead dead serious.

Frankie giggled and saw a smile appear on Gerard's face. "I like the zombie one," she commented before taking a deep drag on her cigarette. She needed to head home soon but she didn't want to leave Gerard. Not now, not when they were just starting to get to know each other.

"You're into zombies?" Gerard asked, looking suddenly very interested.

"Who isn't?" Frankie said, shrugging. "Zombies fucking rule, man."

"True," he said, grinning, the cigarette dangling from his mouth. He pulled it away and some ashes fell onto his jeans. He brushed them off with the back of his hand, absently. "You came here by yourself?" he asked after a minute. It sounded like some strange come-on.

"I got a ride with these awesome guys but I lost them," Frankie explained, scanning the sidewalk for Matt and his friends. The band was there with a small crowd surrounding them. They weren't big or anything yet but they already seemed to have a decent fanbase, not to mention a few groupies. No Rubano and none of his pothead friends were among the crowd though.

Gerard got up and flicked his cigarette across the street. "Ok. Well, looks like I have to go now."

Frankie got up too. She didn't want Gerard to go so soon. Talking to him felt nice. She was actually feeling good, _really good_ for the first time in weeks, for the first time since her mom told her her dad was gone.

"I should go before my brother makes out with the whole band," Gerard announced and he waved at Mikey Way who was standing by the door, pressing himself against the cute bass player, touching him everywhere.

Frankie still had a hard time believing Mikey Way was Gerard's brother. It wasn't because they didn't look anything alike. They actually did a little. Maybe it was their pointy noses or chins. Frankie had a hard time believing they were brothers because Mikey Way was a scene kid, popular, flirty and extrovert. Gerard didn't seem to have a lot of friends besides the one in his D&D club and he didn't go out much or at least not to Frankie's knowledge.

"Good night," Frankie said and she went for a hug, hoping Gerard wasn't going to freak out and think she was some clingy ass weirdo. She wrapped her arms around Gerard and pressed her cheek against his. It was quick and it wasn't awkward at all. It felt easy and natural. Gerard was warm and he didn't smell that bad after all. She pulled away, her cheek sticky against his just as Gerard was wrapping his arms around her to hold her back. She let go of him and he let go of her too after a second. Frankie took a step back and said, "See you around?"

Gerard smiled, looking earnest and sweet. "It was nice talking to you ..."

Frankie realized they were never properly introduced. She knew all these rumors about him but he probably didn't know anything about her besides the fact that she liked zombies and Batman. Not that there was anything interesting to know about her. "Frankie," she finished for him. "I'm Frankie."

"Frankie," he repeated with a smile. "I'm Gerard."

 _I know_ , she thought. She decided to keep her mouth shut though.

"Good night, Frankie," Gerard said as he walked away, dragging Mikey Way after him.

Frankie finished her cigarette, put her hoodie back on and pushed the hair out of her face. She needed a shower and she needed to get to bed soon. She probably smelled like beer and cigarettes and her mom was going to murder her. Maybe not about the smoke because she knew Frankie smoked. She didn't like it, but there was nothing she could do about it. Frankie's mom would definitely kill her for the alcohol though. It wasn't her fault some drunken douche decided to splash his beer on her shirt.

Frankie was about to go back inside the club to try and find Matt when she heard someone call her name from behind her back, the voice, a little muffled by the sound of an engine. She quickly turned around to look at the car parked in front of the club. It was a dirty Japanese model, loud, a little dented. The window on the passenger side was open and Frankie saw that Mikey Way was waving at her from the seat.

Frankie waved back, feeling a little like an idiot.

Mikey turned to the driver, presumably Gerard, and said something to them. Frankie couldn't really hear anything but she saw Mikey's lips moving. He was shoved unceremoniously against the door and stepped out of the car before he called Frankie again. "Hey. C'mere."

Frankie walked up to him and Mikey squeezed his lanky body back inside the car, climbing into the back, leaving the passenger seat empty, maybe for her. Was she supposed to get in the car with them? She leaned forward to look at Gerard who was sitting behind the wheel. "Hey," she said and Gerard looked up at her and smiled. He sure did smile a lot when he saw her.

"I'm taking you home," he declared. It wasn't an invitation. It sounded more like an order or something.

Even though Frankie usually didn't like taking orders from anyone, she said, "Ok," and sat next to Gerard in the car. She was too tired to argue and it was either riding with Gerard and his brother or walking home by herself.

It smelled like onion rings or fried chicken in there, something gross and sour. It also smelled a little like piss and pot and Frankie was kind of really glad her window was rolled all the way down.  
,  
Gerard seemed too busy driving to make small talk. The ride didn't take long but it did seem long since Frankie didn't have anything to do but stare at the empty streets and the buildings passing by her window.

Gerard didn't have any trouble finding Frankie's street and Frankie didn't want him to pull over in front of her house so she told him to stop the car about a couple of houses away. She stepped out and Mikey reclaimed the passenger seat.

"Thanks for the ride," Frankie said just as Mikey was closing the door. She wasn't sure they heard her so she leaned closer to the window, about to thank Gerard again.

He was already leaning across Mikey's lap though, struggling with his seat belt, his elbows digging into his brother's thighs. "'Night, Frankie," he said as Mikey tried to push him back in his seat.

"'Night, Frankie," Mikey repeated and he gave her a smile. Well, it looked like a smile, but Frankie wasn't sure. Mikey's face was pretty inexpressive by default.

Frankie let out a giggle and said, "Night, guys," just before Mikey started rolling the window up.

Frankie watched as the car drove away, rattling and coughing up toxic fumes before disappearing at the corner of her street. She rushed back to her house, jumping her mom's flower bed, her feet slipping on the grass. The neighbors' dog didn't bark when Frankie started to climb up the tree. When she finally pushed her window open, panting, her mom wasn't waiting for her in her room to lecture her. She was probably still sleeping like the dead when Frankie struggled to take off her jeans and her t-shirt and hid them at the bottom of her laundry basket. She crawled under her sheets, her hot skin sliding against the cool cotton fabric, thinking about Gerard and about the stars, still invisible outside of her window.

  
*

  
When Gerard passed Frankie in the hallway the next morning with Mikey, and another guy she didn't know flanking him, Frankie grinned at him and Gerard cracked a timid smile before flashing a row of tiny teeth at her. Frankie didn't really know if she was supposed to go to him and give him a hug like she did the night before. Maybe it wasn't such a great idea though since Alicia and about half of the school were right there. They would start gossiping and Alicia would start asking questions about Gerard and his sex life and his rumored love for cocks, and Frankie didn't have anything to tell her besides the fact that Gerard was a cool guy with a smelly car.

They opted for the same cheesy grin for a couple more days before adding a wave and a nod, even though Frankie was dying to talk to Gerard again. Frankie had to tell Alicia that there wasn't any secret dating going on and that, _no_ , Gerard wasn't a creepy stalker who wanted to eat Frankie's spleen. Alicia didn't seem to believe her, though.

A few days later, Frankie was doing her weekly ditching of gym class and found Gerard up on the roof, sitting on the ledge, hunched over his lap, busy doodling something in a notebook that had seen better days judging by the large brown halos (maybe coffee?) that stained its cover. He looked a little like a demented genius, jittery, hair a fucking mess.

She sat down next to him, pulling her skirt down a little to spare Gerard the sight of her pudgy and sun deprived thighs before she started swinging her legs in the air, the heels of her sneakers kicking against the wall in rhythm, the concrete cold against her skin.

Gerard stopped what he was doing and tucked his pencil behind his ear, handing Frankie his pack of smokes without even waiting for her to ask for anything. He was probably a mind reader.

Frankie pulled a cigarette out of the pack and placed it between her lips, watching as Gerard resumed his work on a particularly ugly zombie, adding shading here and there and rubbing the tip of his index finger, already blackened with graphite, against the paper to smooth out the lines.

Frankie realized she had been staring at the drawing for a while when Gerard's fingers froze on the page.

He looked up at her, his eyebrows furrowed. "Are you gonna smoke that one or just suck on it?"

The filter stuck to her lips when Frankie finally pulled the unlit cigarette out of her mouth.

"This is the shit, dude," she commented, pointing at the sketch before licking her dry lips and putting the cigarette back in between them.

The lighter clicked a couple of times and the flame flickered. She cupped a hand around the cigarette and managed to light it after a few tries, taking a deep, long drag, the smoke burning her lungs. She pulled the cigarette out of her mouth and closed her eyes; she had longed for that first drag all morning. Gerard was a life saver.

"Thanks," she said on exhale, putting the lighter back inside the pack and handing it back to its rightful owner.

Gerard stuffed it back inside his jacket and smiled. "Anytime."

He resumed his work on the zombie, quickly sketching him an undead companion, a girl zombie with only one arm, vacant eyes and a lopsided mouth. Gerard was a fucking artist.

  
*

  
It started as something they did once a week. Once a week, Frankie found Gerard, sitting up on the roof. She was rapidly getting used to her Tuesday morning Gerard and her Tuesday morning free smoke, her Tuesday morning discussions about art and horror movies.

One morning, Gerard was waiting for her on the roof, an hour before lunch but he wasn't at his usual spot, on the ledge, at the corner of the building, drawing zombies or severed limbs or other amazingly creepy things. He was lying on his back, smoking and staring up at the sky.

"This one looks like a dog chewing on a severed leg," Gerard said, pointing at the clouds, as soon as Frankie stepped on the roof. His dirty long black hair was spread around his head, making him look like the Medusa.

"A zombie dog?" Frankie asked as she lay down by his side, squirming as she tried to find a comfortable position, her naked knee brushing up against Gerard's thigh.

She stole the cigarette from his fingers and looked up at the sky, trying to locate the dog. She couldn't see it but maybe she wasn't looking hard enough.

"This one next to the zombie dog looks like a head with tentacles under it," Gerard said, turning to look at Frankie and plucking the cigarette back from her lips.

She rolled onto her side, the hard cement floor painfully crushing her ribs and her hip as she settled closer to Gerard. She blew the smoke in his direction, just because she knew he wouldn't mind and watched his face for a moment. He looked pretty like this, his face, so pale, bathed in the harsh sunlight and the cigarette between his pursed lips. Then, she forcefully tore her eyes away from him and twisted her neck to watch the sky above instead.

She could see sheep and faces among the white cottony clouds. The wind was pushing them together, their shapes changing quickly as they merged and dissolved. She managed to locate what looked like a deformed dog, its ribcage torn to shreds and something sticking out of its screwed up mouth.

She turned to Gerard to steal the cigarette from him once again but he was already handing it back to her. She snatched it, her fingers touching Gerard's for a second. His skin was smooth and warm.

"Maybe it's a severed head and the squiggly things under it is blood?" she said as she rolled onto her back, raising an arm and tucking it behind her head.

Cloud watching wasn't boring although she made it sound like it was every time she told Alicia about it. Actually, it was pretty nice to be up there with Gerard, be close to him, forget about the rest of the world and pretend they were the only two survivors of the zombie apocalypse, even if it was just for an hour, every week.

"I'm gonna draw that tentacle head thing so you can see how rad it really is," Gerard announced, sitting up quickly and reaching for his things, his notepad and the tiny pencil tucked inside the spiral above it.

Frankie didn't move for a while. She closed her eyes, the bright and harsh light of the sun turning to a violent crimson behind her eyelids. She listened to the familiar and ever so soothing sound of pencil against paper and the sound of Gerard's heavy breathing.

  
[Art](http://my-fickle-heart.livejournal.com/6191.html) by [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/valmontheights/profile)[**valmontheights**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/valmontheights/)

  
*

  
"Why are you alone so much?" Frankie asked as she sat down a few steps away from Gerard.

It was a rainy Tuesday morning and Gerard and Frankie had to abandon their roof and retreat to the staircase. It was narrow, cold, poorly lit and it smelled like someone mistook it for their own private bathroom but it was still better than being out there, getting soaked. Gerard put something under the door to keep it open so they could watch the rain and smoke without setting off any fire alarm. The something under the door was a piece of paper folded about a thousand times over that Gerard tore from his notepad; some drawing he refused to show Frankie, something with a lot of red and black, maybe a portrait from his zombie series.

"I like being alone," Gerard replied as he threw his pack of smokes at Frankie. She managed to catch it, a personal victory over her usual clumsiness. When she threw it back at Gerard, he almost caught it, fumbling with it for a few seconds before dropping it on his lap.

Frankie snorted and Gerard made a face at her.

"Am I ruining your special alone time by being here?" she asked when Gerard pocketed his cigarettes.

"No. Not at all," Gerard replied, hastily. "Special alone time means something completely different in case you didn't know and no, you're not ruining anything, on the contrary," he added and Frankie thought she saw him blush a little.

 _Yeah._ It was Frankie's time to blush now. She was an idiot.

"Fuck me," she mumbled and Gerard burst out laughing. At first Frankie didn't get it. It wasn't _that_ funny. She stared at Gerard, slightly creeped out because, even though she had heard him laugh before, it didn't sound anything like this. It was loud and it echoed through the empty staircase, bouncing off the walls. It took Frankie a few more seconds before she started giggling, mostly because it was impossible not to.

"You know, you're okay," Gerard said when he was done laughing. There was a pause and then he said, "For a girl." A pause. "Who's only fifteen." There was another pause and Gerard looked into Frankie's eyes and she melted a little, right there. Frankie stared down at her sneakers and smoothed out her skirt because it was all scrunched up and all she could see were her fucking pudgy thighs. When she looked up again, Gerard was still looking at her, but he was shaking his head. "That's not what I meant. Fuck, that sounded condescending as shit. You're cool regardless of gender and age. Not that all fifteen year old girls are crap but... I just mean, well, fuck. You're really cool."

Frankie smiled. It had to be the single most awkward string of words she had ever heard and yet, she felt something warm stir inside her stomach. Compliments were definitely not something she was used to. Especially from boys. Especially from hot seniors who were not Bob. "Thanks. You're not too shabby for an asswipe."

Gerard flipped her off and turned to look outside. He was smiling and his cheeks were a little pink. His fingers were shaking a little, the ashes of his cigarette falling on his pants. Maybe he was cold or maybe he really needed to stop drinking so much coffee.

Frankie wasn't really good at picking the right moment to say things. That was probably one of the reasons why some people though she was an obnoxious little shit. When she asked Gerard if he was gay, she was half expecting him to flip her off or maybe call her a cunt.

But when Gerard looked up at her, he didn't even seem pissed off. He did look a little taken aback by Frankie's bluntness as he shifted, his eyes dropping to his feet.

"People say you're into dudes," Frankie said, already regretting she ever asked. It was Gerard's life and she was being a nosy little shit.

He didn't reply right away. He took a few more drags on his cigarette and watched the rain for a minute. Frankie wanted to apologize. She wanted to tell him it didn't matter if he was gay or straight or _whatthefuckever_. It didn't matter because it wouldn't change anything between them, it wouldn't change the way Frankie felt about him.

Then Gerard looked at her and said, "I don't like labels."

"Labels suck."

Gerard smiled and Frankie relaxed a little.

"Thing is, I don't know," he said and this wasn't really the answer Frankie had hoped to hear. "I don't believe in labeling people's sexuality, you know? I like people. Sometimes. Usually, I just don't like them that much."

That was another thing they had in common.

"You're agnostic but like, not about religion," Frankie said before shaking her head. That didn't make any sense. She needed to shut her mouth now before Gerard found out how uncool she really was, that she was just a stupid fifteen year old girl who didn't know shit about anything. "That didn't make any sense," she said out loud as she wrapped her arms around her legs, hooking her chin between her knees, peering at Gerard.

"It did make sense. I know what you meant."

Gerard was probably just being nice. Frankie gave him an earnest and slightly embarrassed smile before turning her attention back to the roof.

The sky was starting to clear up a little, the wind pushing the dark grey clouds away. It was still raining though when Frankie threw her cigarette outside. The butt bounced off the metal door and Frankie thought for a second that it was going to land right back in her lap or maybe in Gerard's. It rolled down the stairs, making its way downstairs from step to step and Gerard stomped it before it could reach Frankie.

Frankie got up and smoothed out her skirt, pulling it down a little. "I have to go now," she said, mechanically combing her hair with her fingers and tucking her long bangs behind her ears. "Lunch time."

Gerard flickered his cigarette outside and turned to Frankie. "Ok." He exhaled, his mouth momentarily disappearing behind a cloud of smoke. "Have fun."

"You can come join us if you want," she said when she noticed he wasn't moving. She was supposed to meet Alicia and Bob and since they couldn't go to their usual spot because of the fucking rain, Frankie would have to find them a table at the cafeteria. She hated the cafeteria, it was always too loud and full of douchebags who thought it was funny to throw things at her. _Assholes._

"Maybe some other time," Gerard said, and Frankie shrugged. She couldn't force him if he didn't want to hang out with her outside of their ditch-Tuesdays. Maybe he didn't want to be seen with her in public. _Maybe_.

She was climbing down the stairs and tucking her shirt back inside her skirt when Gerard called her. "Frankie?" He sounded hesitant.

"Yeah?" She didn't turn around but stopped halfway, her hand on the cold metal railing, waiting.

"Would you," he paused, "come by my house some time?"

Frankie turned around and stared at Gerard, a little skeptical. "Mmmkay?"

He probably wanted to show her his comic book collection, his Warhammer figurines or the cool hobbit sword he said he had.

"I could pick you up?" he offered, sounding strangely eager, his eyes wide.

He got up to his feet and pushed the hair out of his face. Frankie thought he was going to follow her downstairs, but instead he climbed up and stood on the last step for a moment, poking at the paper under the door with the toe of his boot.

"That would be nice since I don't know where the fuck you live and shit."

"Cool." Gerard didn't seem like he heard what she was saying. He just smiled and pushed the door open, leaning down to pick up the piece of paper, holding it by a corner before wrapping his fingers around it and shoving it in his jacket. The door closed behind him with a loud bang, probably too loud, and Frankie jumped.

"How about Friday night?" Gerard asked as he made his way down the stairs, slowly, watching his feet. He stopped on the same step as Frankie, halfway down the stairs and held on to the railing behind him.

Frankie didn't have anything planned on Friday, and she could probably sneak out or tell her mom she was going on a study date with Alicia. Maybe she would believe her. Then, it hit her. _Date._ Something people did on Friday nights.

"Is this a date?" she asked, staring at Gerard's feet and at the way his worn out boots were touching her ratty old sneakers. His knee was almost touching her knee.

Gerard's feet shuffled and Frankie looked up. He didn't look very convincing when he said, "No. Would you like it to be a date?"

Frankie shrugged and mumbled, "Not really?" She probably sounded as unconvincing as Gerard.

"Ok." Gerard's voice sounded a little colder than usual, but then he smiled and trotted down the stairs. He was already in the hallway when Frankie let go of the railing, her hand skidding along, moist. She could almost smell Gerard, as if his scent was hanging in the air, a cloud of cigarettes smoke and ink and sweat and she could almost feel his warmth on her skin where his knee had touched her.

He was gone for the whole of twenty seconds and Frankie kind of missed him already. Friday could not come soon enough. She was kind of screwed.

  
*

  
Friday night came and Frankie climbed down the oak tree about one hour too early, her feet landing in the wet grass with a thud. She slipped a little but managed not to fall on her ass. Frankie looked up, instinctively, to see if the light in her mom's bedroom was on. It wasn't. She was already asleep. Frankie's mom was sleeping a lot these days.

Truth be told, Frankie was probably way too excited for something that wasn't a date. She had only seen Gerard once since that day in the staircase and it was a quick exchange outside the cafeteria. Gerard jotted down his phone number on the back of her hand with a sharpie and he wrote down hers on his arm. Frankie bit her bottom lip when he grabbed her arm and pushed the sleeve of her shirt up. He scribbled quickly and every brush of the sharpie against her skin gave her fucking chills. It was the last time she saw him and Frankie started to wonder if it was just because he had been busy or if he had dropped out of school altogether. He wasn't in the hallways and he wasn't with his brother when Mikey sat down between Alicia and Bob during lunch on Thursday. Frankie wanted to ask him about Gerard but she didn't want to sound too interested or too stalkerish. Besides, Alicia seemed to be pretty much in love with Mikey and Frankie didn't want to interrupt their dorky flirting and their passionate debate about Cylons.

Frankie walked up to the corner of her street, passing by the house that had Christmas lights up all year long and the one with the annoying German shepherd that always barked for no reason other than to piss off the neighborhood, especially early on Sunday mornings when Frankie wanted to sleep in and not to go to mass with her mom. She walked up to where she told Gerard she would wait for him and sat there on the sidewalk. It was cold under her, a little wet too and it soaked through the denim of her jeans, making her shiver and shift, uneasy.

She hated waiting. She hated wasting her time and doing absolutely nothing but sit there in the dark like a fucking idiot and turn to look at every single car that passed by. Every time she saw headlights or every time she heard a car turning in her street, Frankie's stomach leaped. And every time, she realized it wasn't Gerard's dirty Subaru but some random car she didn't care about.

It started raining after a few minutes and Frankie wished she was wearing something warmer than her hoodie with the angry wolf head on it. It was warm but not really waterproof. She zipped it up anyway and pulled the hood on, tucking her hair inside before curling up in a bundle and rocking back and forth in an attempt to stay warm. The sound of the rain was a little muffled by her hood but she could still hear it, lashing at the windows and the cars around her. She watched as the gutter at her feet turned into a tiny river, carrying away all the crap left by assholes who couldn't clean up after themselves: an empty Starbucks Styrofoam cup, plastic wrappers of all kinds, bottle caps, a bottle of Coke with something that looked like pee inside and more cigarette filters than she could count.

The rain stopped and the wind took its place, chilling Frankie to the bones when it made its way inside her damp hoodie. Frankie got to her feet and took her phone out of her front pocket. Gerard was late. Gerard was very fucking late and she was about to catch pneumonia. She didn't want to call Gerard but she didn't really have a choice at that point. Ten minutes would have still been okay but Gerard was _twenty five minutes_ late to pick her up.

After a minute or so of hesitation she dialed his number, trying to warm up by bouncing up and down, her Chucks squeaking on the wet pavement.

She started thinking that maybe Gerard had changed his mind or maybe he was out there with his nerdy friends, making fun of the petite Italian girl in her soaked up hoodie and her squeaky Chucks and her drippy hair, standing in the middle of the street like a retard. She pulled her hood down and tried to make a ponytail with her wet hair. She stuck the phone to her ear and waited.

Making fun of people didn't really seem very Gerard-like. Frankie was just making a big deal out of nothing and Gerard was probably on his way, but Frankie still wanted to make sure he didn't forget about her.

The voice at the other end of the line wasn't Gerard's. The guy who answered the phone mumbled a bit when he said, "Hi, Way residence."

There was a voice in the background, maybe from the TV, someone screaming and Frankie distinctively heard the sound of glass breaking in the distance.

"Huh, hi," Frankie stuttered.

"Oh, hi, Frankie," the guy said like he was relieved to hear her voice and Frankie realized the guy was Mikey.

"Where the fuck..."

"Wait," Mikey interrupted her and Frankie heard a door slam wherever Mikey was. "Could you come over?" he finally asked in a hushed tone.

"Your dickwad of a brother was supposed to pick me up half an hour ago," Frankie replied, gritting her teeth. She was fresh out of patience.

"Yeah, he kinda forgot," Mikey said in a casual tone that made Frankie kind of want to punch him and his stupid forgetful brother in the fucking face. She could probably take them both anyway.

"You're fucking kidding, right?" she yelled, and her voice echoed through the neighborhood. A dog barked, maybe that useless crapbag German shepherd and Frankie decided she needed to get out of the middle of the street before someone called the cops on her.

"Listen, he's having some kind of freak out and it'd be awesome if you came," Mikey said, in the same fucking monotonous voice.

Frankie grumbled and cursed through her teeth, resisting the urge to throw her phone in the gutter and forced herself to ask, "What's the address?"

As soon as Mikey told her where they lived, Frankie hung up and shoved her phone back in the pocket of her hoodie, not giving Mikey a chance to say one more word. Gerard was an asshole and Frankie needed to tell it to his fucking face.

  
*

  
It took her roughly fifteen minutes to find the house. She didn't know the neighborhood too well but it pretty much looked like hers. The same little boxes, no white picket fences and it smelled like an armpit. Gerard's house was at the end of Salter Place, a red brick house with a metal fence.

Mikey was there, on the side of the house, smoking a cigarette and leaning against the wall. He pushed his glasses back up on his nose when he saw Frankie but didn't move from his spot. He just kept smoking in silence, watching Frankie make her way across the lawn, dragging her feet in the muddy grass.

"You're wet," he said when Frankie stood right in front of him. He stared at her face for a moment, blankly, before taking another drag on his cigarette.

Frankie touched the mess that was her hair, frizzy and still a little damp and tried to comb it with her fingers. It was a lost battle.

She stole the cigarette from Mikey's fingers just like she always did with Gerard, and Mikey let her. She took a deep drag on it and everything felt a little better. She exhaled slowly and felt warmer and less angry at Gerard for some reason. Frankie took another drag before handing back the cigarette to Mikey who was busy tugging at a thread of his cardigan. She watched his fingernails as they picked at the worn out fabric, momentarily forgetting why she was there.

When Frankie finally looked up, she saw something on Mikey's t-shirt. There was a large stain, extending from his neck to his stomach. In the faint yellow glow of the street lights, it looked like blood. It looked like a bloody hand-print.

"You've got red on you," she said, and Mikey looked down at his shirt before looking back up and giving her a half-smile.

"He's downstairs," Mikey said as he pointed at a flight of stairs behind him, probably leading to the basement.

Frankie didn't want to ask what was going on. Mikey didn't seem like he really wanted to tell her anyway. Frankie headed to the basement, taking careful steps on the muddy and dark stairs. There was music coming from inside, something angry and loud, something that sounded good, maybe The Misfits or Danzig. She pushed the door open and gave one last glance at Mikey. He was still at the same spot, at the corner of the house, smoking and playing with a loose thread of his fucking cardigan. He was such an odd little dude.

The door creaked when Frankie closed it behind her. There was a long corridor with the ugliest yellowish flowery wallpaper Frankie had ever seen and a bunch of family pictures: chubby boys, chubby Gerard, all of these surrounded by pictures of Al Pacino. Gerard's mom had really awesome decorating skills.

Frankie walked in the direction of the music, following the saturated guitars and Glenn Danzig's voice until she found herself standing in front of a door, slightly ajar, a yellow, orangey light seeping through the crack. Frankie shuffled her feet and chewed on her bottom lip before knocking on the door. It slowly opened with each brush of her knuckles against the wood panel.

Frankie didn't see Gerard at first. The first thing her brain registered in the middle of the chaos was the red pool by the bed and the tiny shards of glass floating in it. She opened her mouth and what came out of it was a breathless, "Oh Jesus fuck."

She thought, _Oh fuck, Gerard killed himself_. When she finally saw him, kneeling at the foot of one of the beds -- there were two, the other one was probably Mikey's --, staring at the towel clutched in his hands, Frankie thought, _Gerard fucking slit his wrists, that motherfucker_.

Frankie took a step forward, pushing the door open, and Gerard looked up at her, red smeared on his paler than usual cheeks. He didn't get up but crawled closer to the pool of paint -- it was paint, not blood, _thank fuck_ \-- and every last bit of anger Frankie still felt melted away.

"Frankie," Gerard called in a husky voice, dropping the towel onto his lap.

Frankie took a couple of steps towards him, trying to avoid walking on one of the sketches or canvases that were lying everywhere around the room or on the tiny shards of glass that seemed to spread from the bed to a small desk, cluttered with paper and paint and comic books.

"What the fuck happened in here?" she asked, yelling over the voice of Danzig.

She poked at one of the canvases with the toe of her mud covered Chucks. There was nothing on it but a red splatter, like the ones they always showed in crime movies, the ones they called 'high velocity splatters'. It looked very cool.

Gerard threw the towel across the room and it landed on the desk where it knocked down a couple of empty bottles of Bud Light. He crawled on his knees to turn the volume down on his stereo and _Mother_ became a murmur in the background. Gerard let out a heavy sigh, like he was about to burst into tears and said, "Nothing." He sounded so sad, like he was just diagnosed with cancer of the puppy and Frankie couldn't take take it anymore.

She scoffed and said, "Yeah, right."

Frankie thought Gerard wasn't going to tell her what was wrong with him. She thought she was going to have to guess and she wasn't good at that game. Frankie stood there for a minute, waiting, looking out the small window, the only source of natural light in Gerard's room.

"All I do is shit," Gerard finally said before getting up. "I can't fucking paint. I can't do it."

He walked up to her, closing the distance between them and Frankie wanted to touch him.

"Yes, you can," she said, patting his shoulder awkwardly because she didn't know what the fuck she was supposed to do or say.

Gerard shrugged her off and kicked at the sketches, sending them flying across the room. One of them, the most fantastic drawing of an alien Frankie had ever seen -- like the ones in the movies, with drool and way too many teeth and that weird tail they have -- landed right in a puddle of red paint. Gerard didn't seem to care that he had just ruined a fucking masterpiece. He took a handful of sketches and crumpled them in his fists, looking all theatrical.

"See these?" he asked before dropping the crumpled sketches on the floor. "This is all bullshit. I'm bullshitting my way into this summer art program and the dude at the admission office is calling me on my bullshit." He was pacing around the room now, holding his head in his hands, completely freaking out and Frankie had no clue how to make him feel better. "If I get this, I'll get into SVA next year and I can't fucking do anything right."

Since it looked like she was going to be there for a little while, Frankie took off her damp hoodie and threw it on what she assumed was Gerard's bed. Her t-shirt was sticking to her skin and she probably looked like a wet rat but there were no mirrors around, which was probably for the best. She sat down on the bed and looked up at Gerard as he leaned against his desk and stared down at the red paint spreading on the linoleum.

"So, you just do your best. Paint zombies or whatever. Your zombies are always rad," Frankie said, giving him her most earnest smile. Gerard was talented and he could probably have drawn a pile of dog shit and it would have still looked amazing.

"Fuck, Frankie. You don't get it," he screamed, and Frankie hated when people screamed at her for no reason.

"Come here, you fucking asshole," she told him, raising her voice just a little, her arms reaching out to him.

Gerard seemed a little surprised and he hesitated for a few seconds before he finally complied, sitting down next to her on the bed. Frankie shuddered when his thigh touched hers. She was freezing and she needed Gerard's warmth more than anything. Frankie wrapped an arm around his waist and Gerard put his head on her shoulder. They didn't move or talk for a minute. For just a minute, Frankie felt Gerard's warmth radiating from his body, she kept her hand on his hip and it felt good. It felt as if Gerard's head was meant to be on Frankie's shoulder, as if her hand was meant to be on his hip, as if they fit together, kind of like puzzle pieces, even though that sounded so cheesy in her head.

Then, Gerard turned to her, his mouth so close to hers that she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead, he frowned and mumbled, "You're wet," and he sounded exactly like his brother.

"Seriously, fuck you," Frankie grumbled and Gerard shifted next to her, pulling away from her and from her hand. Frankie thought he was shying away from the contact but then, he lay down across the bed.

Frankie wasn't really expecting Gerard to put his head in her lap. When he did though, Frankie let him. It wasn't something they did before but it seemed as natural as hugging or watching the clouds together.

"I'm sorry," he said, curling up and putting a hand on her knee.

"You better be."

Frankie put one hand on his waist and the other on his head. She started stroking, her fingers running through his long hair. It didn't feel dirty and it even smelled nice, like peach or something equally delicious with just a hint of Marlboro Light laced in it.

"I have to paint this triptych shit and I have no idea what I'm doing," Gerard said, his voice coming out as a whisper.

Frankie watched him as his eyes closed, his eyelashes fluttering against his pale cheeks. He let out a heavy sigh, his warm breath seeping through the wet denim of Frankie's pants. Then, he clasped at Frankie's knee, clutching to her, tighter and his weird pinkie finger that bent funny slithered past the hole in her shredded jeans to touch her skin.

"Did you shower?" she asked, her fingers gently petting Gerard's soft hair.

"Yes."

"You smell good," she murmured as she leaned down, resisting the urge to plant a kiss right on the shell of Gerard's ear.

She was pulling away, her fingers reluctantly parting with Gerard's hair just as Gerard's eyes blinked open.

"Wait," Gerard said as he rolled out off bed, pulling away from Frankie's lap. He squatted down by the pool of paint that was starting to dry in the middle of the room and searched the mess for a few seconds. He ripped a large piece of paper from a sketchbook that was buried under a pile of crumpled drawings and pressed it on one of the paint splatters.

Frankie watched him for a while, fascinated and also a bit confused by how Gerard's mind worked when he was creating something. It was like Gerard wasn't really there anymore. He seemed in some sort of trance, maybe induced by the paint fumes.

Frankie lay down across the bed, stealing the last remnants of Gerard's warmth there. She didn't move off Gerard's smelly fleece blanket for maybe an hour and almost dozed off a couple of times. When she eventually sat up, it was to watch as a face appeared out of a blotch of red paint, Gerard's fingers moving rapidly on the paper, resolute and confident.

Gerard didn't seem to notice when Frankie walked out of the room, tiptoeing into the corridor and pulling the door shut behind her. She didn't want to disrupt Gerard's concentration or get him out of his zone or whatever it was he called it.

She was already halfway back to her house when it started raining again, heavier and colder than before and Frankie cursed through her teeth because she had forgotten her hoodie on Gerard's bed.

  
*

  
Frankie wanted to sleep. No, that wasn't really it. Frankie wanted to fucking _die_.

She knew what was coming for her the minute she went to bed on Saturday night feeling like she had swallowed a bunch of razorblades. It always started like this.

When her mom knocked on her bedroom door on Sunday morning, Frankie buried her face deep under the blankets and tried to ignore her. There was no way she could go to mass when she felt like a giant ball of snot. Giant balls of snot didn't need to go to church. Giant balls of snot needed to die a slow death, locked up in their rooms, forgotten by the rest of the world, kind of like in that Kafka novel where some guy turns into a human-sized cockroach.

Her mom came into her room anyway, probably after she realized Frankie wasn't going to tell her to come in. She dropped something onto the bed, most likely some clean clothes she wanted Frankie to wear so she didn't look like a delinquent junkie hobo and embarrass her in front of the whole congregation.

Frankie rolled onto her side, trying to push whatever her mom had laid out for her off the bed. She succeeded, judging by the sound her mom made, that click of the tongue thing she always did when Frankie was being a shitty little brat.

"Siiiiick," Frankie whined and the word sounded weird, like she had cotton balls stuck in her ears.

Her mom pulled the blankets down and put her cold hand on Frankie's burning forehead. Frankie shivered at the touch and squirmed as she tried to crawl back under her warm blankets.

"Yup. You have a fever. Let me get the thermometer," her mom said and she sounded so fucking jaded Frankie wanted to cry.

She walked out of Frankie's room and Frankie wailed, "I _wadda_ die," as she clutched to her blankets and struggled with them in an attempt to get comfortable. Every inch of her body ached and she couldn't breathe anymore.

"Someone dropped this by for you this morning," her mom said when she came back from the bathroom, shaking the thermometer for a few seconds before handing it to Frankie. She picked up one of Frankie's hoodies off the floor and laid it onto the bed, making a weird face, as if it was gross. Then, she added, "I don't think it was Alicia."

Frankie stuck the thermometer in her mouth and looked at the hoodie. It was her angry wolf head hoodie, the one she had forgotten on Gerard's bed. Gerard probably came all this way to give it back to her and Frankie didn't even see him. How unfair was that?

She looked up at her mom and took the thermometer out of her mouth so she could say, "Oh, yeah. _Forgod_ _by_ hoodie _ad_ her place the _oder_ day."

Her mom gave her a suspicious look but didn't investigate the matter any further.

Frankie put the thermometer back in her mouth and rolled back under the blankets, the hoodie clutched into her hands. If she had been able to actually smell anything, she was pretty sure the hoodie would have smelled like Gerard.

  
*

  
Frankie had a fever of 102.1°F. She didn't catch pneumonia like she first thought although it sounded like she was coughing up a lung every time she tried to move. It was just a stupid cold.

On Monday, her mom called the school to let them know Frankie was sick and that she was probably going to miss the rest of the week. The school secretary didn't really ask any questions. She already knew the drill. It wasn't the first time this happened and it sure wasn't going to be the last.

Frankie spent an entire week sleeping, watching TV, trying not to drown in her own snot, reading comics and some book about post-impressionists painters so she could flaunt her new knowledge at Gerard as soon as she got better. She wasn't sure she really liked post-impressionism though. Too many funny looking people. The colors were nice though.

Alicia dropped by on Wednesday. She looked weirdly excited and kind of jittery too when she flopped down onto Frankie's bed.

"Gerard gave me something for you," she said, digging a piece of paper out of her algebra book. She unfolded it carefully before handing it to Frankie.

It was a pencil sketch on a torn piece of wide ruled paper, something Gerard probably drew in less than five minutes during lunch. It looked like a slimed-up version of herself, complete with tissues sticking out of her nostrils, an over-sized head and bloodshot eyeballs sticking out of their sockets. Frankie smirked when she saw the caption _Frankie the Snot Monster_ jotted down under the caricature. She loved everything about it.

"I told him you were all snotty and gross and he did this. How sweet?" Alicia said, mockingly.

"How is he?" Frankie asked as she smoothed out the drawing and put it on top of the pile of boxes of Tylenol and Nyquil cluttering her nightstand, making it look like a Walgreen had puked all over it.

Frankie missed Gerard so much it physically hurt. She couldn't wait to get better so she could meet him up on the roof, steal his cigarettes and talk about the most random stuff they could think of.

"He's awesome. He's hanging out with this chick," Alicia replied, dropping a couple of books in Frankie's lap. Homework. Exactly what Frankie needed to get better.

Alicia kicked off her shoes and sat up onto the bed, crossing her long legs under her. "This ... Lindsey chick, you know?" she added, waving her hand.

Frankie was blowing her nose and for a second there, she though she had misheard Alicia through all the snot. Gerard was hanging out with a girl. A girl who wasn't her.

"Oh."

That Lindsey chick had to be Lindsey Ballato. Zoid, like some people called her, was a senior _like Gerard_ and she was into art, _like Gerard_. She was in some kind of Alice Cooper cover band too with her edgy and somewhat crazy friends which made her about a thousand times better than anyone Frankie knew. She also looked way better in a skirt. Frankie couldn't even try to compete with that.

"Yeah. I guess he's not into dudes after all," Alicia added as an afterthought, and Frankie kind of wanted to stick the snotty tissues in her mouth to make her shut up.

"They're -" Frankie wasn't sure she wanted to know but she asked anyway. "Dating?"

Frankie didn't want to sound surprised. Gerard was a pretty awesome guy. He deserved to go out with a cool chick like Lindsey. Frankie didn't want to sound jealous either. Why would she be anyway? Gerard was her friend. He could date whoever the fuck he wanted and it wasn't any of Frankie's business.

"I don't think so. Not yet, I guess. They're just hanging out," Alicia replied, twirling a strand of her jet black hair around her fingers. "But not like you guys hang out. He hangs out with her in public, you know?"

Frankie knew Alicia was being a bitch on purpose, just because that was how they always talked to each other. This time though, Frankie didn't have a clever come-back. She dropped her snotty tissue on the floor and kicked Alicia through the blankets as hard as she could, her heel barely poking Alicia's stomach. She was too weak to do any real damage.

"Fuck you. _Botherfucking_ slut," Frankie grumbled and even her insults sounded weak.

Alicia picked up the pile of books that laid forgotten on Frankie's lap and threw it on the floor, right next to the mountain of snotty tissues piling up by the nightstand, before lying down across the bed.

"So, I was wondering if I should ask Mikey Way out," Alicia said, staring at the ceiling and giving Frankie a sideways glance.

Frankie let out a heavy sigh which led to a spectacular coughing fit that almost ended her. When she was done ripping her lungs out of her chest, she was crying. Well, her eyes were, not really on purpose. Her life sucked, but she wasn't the kind of girl to cry because of a stupid boy doing stupid boy things with a stupid girl that wasn't her. No. She wasn't like that.

"Do whatever the fuck you want," she finally replied when she noticed Alicia was staring at her, as if she was waiting for some kind of advice. "It's _dot_ like I can give you dating advice."

Frankie felt gross and on the brink of bawling like a fucking baby. She had been gone for five days and Gerard had already found someone better to replace her. _The new and improved friend, smarter and prettier, now available at Target._ Lindsey probably knew her way around French painters, she didn't have huge thighs and she was also probably better at cuddling Gerard when he freaked out.

"He made you a snot monster. That's kind of sweet," Alicia observed with a lopsided smile. "Weird but sweet." She patted Frankie's knee through the blanket, gently.

Frankie wanted to smile and show Alicia she didn't care who Gerard hung out with but she was just too tired to pretend.

"Sure. _I'b_ a fucking _sdot bonster_ ," Frankie said before crawling back under the blankets, pushing Alicia away. "Really fucking _awesobe_."

  
*

  
Gerard and Lindsey didn't look like they were just hanging out when Frankie saw them in the hallway on Monday morning. They looked more like they had been glued or sewn together. Lindsey made Gerard laugh and she touched him, exactly the way Frankie used to touch him, a hand on his arm, on his waist. She went everywhere he went like a fucking parasite. If Frankie ever saw them sharing a cigarette and hanging out on _her_ roof, she was going to puke her Lucky Charms all over her shoes, green clover marshmallows and everything.

Frankie pretended she didn't see them when Gerard walked by her, Lindsey clinging to his arm as if he was hers only and beaming like a motherfucker. They were giggling and Frankie wanted to fucking stab them each in the face. Frankie acted like she was too busy searching for a book inside her locker to even see him.

She heard a weak "Hi, Frankie," behind her shoulder and raised a hand, just to be polite. She didn't turn around though. Her Lucky Charms could have still made a run for it.

By lunch time, Frankie was feeling a little better. It was warm and sunny outside and Frankie chose a quiet spot under a tree so she wouldn't get sunburns and so she could hide from people she didn't want to see.

"Jewbano asked about you," Bob said when he sat down next to her in the grass.

Bob was her only company that day. Alicia wasn't there. She had deserted them and was having lunch in the cafeteria with Mikey Way and maybe Pete Wentz too, _the traitor_. Frankie didn't know what they were plotting together but she knew it had to be something incredibly stupid. As long as it didn't involve her in any way, she didn't even want to know.

Lindsey wasn't anywhere in sight either. Gerard was sitting across the lawn, right next to the bleachers, all by himself, doodling or writing a poem, maybe an _Ode to his oh so beautiful and kickass girlfriend_ or some other lame crap. Frankie was staring at him, feigning interest in her bland peanut butter and jelly sandwich and pretending she was actually enjoying it when Bob punched her in the arm, hard, like the rude prick he was.

Frankie jerked back, dropping her not even half-eaten sandwich in the grass. She wasn't really mad about the loss of her lunch, but gave Bob a furious glare anyway.

He seemed pretty unimpressed though as he turned away from her.

"Jewbano asked me how you were today," Bob said, clearly annoyed, staring blankly at the cafeteria. Maybe he was trying to catch a glimpse of Alicia. Maybe he was jealous that she preferred the company of Mikey Way to his.

Frankie looked down at her sandwich, debating picking it up off the ground or just leaving it where it was. It didn't even taste that good anyway so it wasn't a big loss. She was still staring at it when a tiny black ant climbed the crust with difficulty and started running around the spongy bread in a frenzy. If ants could speak, this one was probably screaming _Motherfucking Jackpot!_. The victorious ant was shortly followed by one of her tiny friends and then by another one and Frankie watched them roam around their bounty because it was kind of fascinating.

Then, she realized Bob was staring at her and that she had no idea what he was talking about.

When she finally spoke, her voice was hoarse. "Who? What?"

She cleared her throat and momentarily looked away from the ant colony staking a claim over her unfinished lunch.

Bob rolled his eyes at her and grumbled, "Matt."

Frankie shrugged. She knew at least five different guys named Matt. Fucking guys with their fucking unoriginal names.

"Rubano," Bob added with a sigh. He sounded even grumpier than usual. "I think he likes you."

"Why?" Frankie asked, tearing tiny crumbs off her dirt covered sandwich and dropping them right next to the ants. She wanted to be helpful but the ants looked more freaked out than thankful as they started running around, scattering in an unorganized fuss.

"How the fuck should I know? Maybe because he's short and insane. Or maybe he's got brain damage from all the pot. The fuck."

Frankie liked Matt Rubano, too. He was kind of cute and funny and a nerd and he was actually shorter than Frankie which was definitely a first since she was about four feet tall herself. Matt wasn't dating Lindsey Ballato nor anyone else as far as she knew and this made him a potentially awesome date. Too bad Frankie didn't _like_ him; not that way. Not the way she liked Gerard anyway.

  
*

  
Frankie ditched her usual ditch-Tuesday that week. It wasn't because she actually went to her gym class. No. There was absolutely no power in the universe that could force her to show up there.

Instead of hanging out on the roof, she decided to spend an hour in the girl's bathroom, sat in one of the stalls, reading the latest issue of X-Men, listening to Black Flag and craving a smoke. The bathroom smelled like cheap perfume, hairspray and stale tobacco and, well, shit, but Frankie didn't have anywhere else to go. She didn't know if Gerard was up on the roof waiting for her or if Lindsey was with him. She decided she didn't care. They could have the roof. She was just fine here in the tiny stall, all by herself, surrounded by obscene drawings and the occasional _[Insert name here] is a slut_.

,  
*

  
Frankie always loved going to the movies, especially when it was to see some horror flick with lots of blood and gore and promiscuous bimbos being hacked up to pieces by ridiculous masked killers. But most of all, she loved the predictable plots because they always made her laugh. She wasn't a big fan of mainstream cinema unless it was something about puppies or killer robots but she always made an effort to try and enjoy herself when Alicia dragged her and Bob to see the latest blockbuster everyone was talking about. Well, unless it was a lame-ass and useless sequel or remake of something that already sucked to begin with. Frankie still had standards.

She had no idea what they were going to see but Alicia assured her it wasn't one of those epically long foreign movies with subtitles. Frankie was convinced they made these to bore her within inches of her life. People who pretended to like those were big fat liars and were probably just trying to act smarter than they really were. Nobody went to the movies to be bored to death.

"It's gonna be awesome," Alicia told Frankie on Friday, almost squeaking with excitement.

Frankie was lying in the grass, at her new favorite lunch spot by the tree, looking at the leaves dancing lazily in the wind. She hummed and nodded so Alicia knew she was listening.

"Matt's coming and Mikey Way and Gerard too," Alicia said as she laid down on her stomach next to Frankie.

Bob mumbled something about Mikey, something that didn't sound too nice, something that included the words _fuck_ and _asshole_ and Alicia glared at him for the remaining of the day. Jealousy really sucked.

It had been two weeks since Frankie last spoke to Gerard but it almost felt like an eternity. When he sat down in the row in front of Frankie at the movies, Lindsey was with him. She was whispering things in his ear and giggling and Gerard giggled too and Frankie just wanted them to shut up before she started throwing things at them or kicking the backs of their seats.

The room went dark and Matt shifted in the seat next to hers. He was sandwiched between her and Bob and looked a bit uncomfortable. Maybe it was because Frankie was an asshole who needed to shut her fucking mouth in public forever.

Matt was maybe five minutes late when Frankie told Bob that she didn't really give a shit if he didn't show up. That was mean and kind of not true because spending some time with someone as cool as Matt was always good. It was also way better than being a dateless piece of shit surrounded by clingy couples. Things would have been perfectly fine if Matt hadn't been within earshot when Frankie threw her tantrum. Matt sat down next to her and apologized for his lateness. Then, he pretended he didn't hear a thing and Frankie decided to be extra nice to him for the rest of the evening, just to make amends for being such an jerk.

The popcorn wasn't hers. Matt had paid for it. He had been kind enough to pay for the drinks too but it was the popcorn that Frankie ended up hoarding. At first, she was actually eating it. She wasn't even hungry but she needed something to occupy her idle hands. She also needed to put something in her mouth so Matt didn't hear her grinding her teeth.

The movie wasn't bad at all. It was about tornadoes and people who chased after them. It had Bill Paxton in it and Frankie liked him a lot ever since she saw him in Aliens.

Frankie tried really hard to concentrate on what was happening on the screen and not right in front of her. She managed pretty well for a while, until Gerard snorted loudly. There wasn't anything remotely funny about tornadoes and flying cows and if there was, then, Frankie didn't get it. Gerard snorted again and Frankie threw a kernel of popcorn at him. She wasn't a great shot so the sticky buttered ball ended up on the floor by his seat.

She quickly turned to look at Matt, just to see if he had noticed what she was doing but his eyes were glued to the screen. She glanced at Bob and Alicia and at Mikey who was sitting between them but they were all staring at the screen.

Frankie could have stopped there. She could have left Gerard alone and she could have watched the movie like everyone else. It seemed like a really good movie too judging by the way everyone looked so attentive and by the lack of annoying chatter in the back rows.

She wanted to watch the movie but then Gerard shifted and sat up and Frankie thought he was going to put an arm around Lindsey's shoulder. This was too much for her.

Frankie took a handful of popcorn and took another shot at Gerard. This time, the kernel of popcorn hit the armrest between Gerard and Lindsey. Gerard brushed it off with the back of his hand as if he didn't even notice; as if there was nothing strange about flying popcorn. For some reason, this made Frankie want to tip the whole bucket of popcorn on his stupid head.

She picked a handful more though and threw it at Gerard, all at once. This time, Frankie managed to hit his head. Some of the popcorn got stuck in his hair and some of it flew right past him, hitting the seat in front of him. Lindsey probably got some, too. Frankie didn't really care where it landed. She just didn't want Gerard to keep ignoring her.

Gerard turned around and gave Frankie a half pissed off, half surprised look. He ran his fingers through his hair and the popcorn fell on the carpet, bouncing and rolling at Frankie's feet.

Frankie was tempted to throw another round of popcorn at his face; just to make sure she had Gerard's undivided attention. He was staring at her, frowning, his forehead creased and Frankie thought he kind of looked like her mom when she was pissed off at her which made the whole thing hilarious. When she started giggling, Gerard turned back to the screen and Lindsey whispered something in his ear. He shrugged and Lindsey turned around. She looked at Frankie, her eyes kind of beady but still menacing in the dark and Frankie flashed her cheesiest, dorkiest grin at her before stuffing a handful of popcorn in her mouth.

  
*

  
Frankie didn't ask Gerard to drive her home after the movie. Alicia was the one to suggest it. She probably thought Gerard and Frankie needed to talk things out, work out their issues, somewhere not in public, where Frankie couldn't embarrass her friends or ruin everyone else's fun. Frankie didn't really see the point in spending half an hour in Gerard's tiny smelly car while everyone else, including Lindsey and Matt, were going for a pizza. It didn't seem like it would help fix things, if there was anything to fix.

"What the fuck was that?" Gerard asked as he pulled over at the corner of Frankie's street. Strangely, he didn't sound too angry. He turned off the engine and took off his seat belt. Then, he turned to Frankie and looked at her. There was something sad in his eyes, maybe disappointment. It was the exact same look her mom gave her when Frankie did something stupid like getting detention for saying _fuck_ in class or bringing home a hard earned C minus.

Frankie struggled with her seat belt for a few seconds, frustrated, her fingers tugging at it urgently. She needed to get out of the car. She couldn't breathe.

Gerard shifted in his seat, the springs squeaking under him and then, reached out to help her. He leaned across her lap and gently pushed her fingers out of the way with his smooth hands. Frankie froze when she felt his warm breath against her neck, brushing against the underside of her jaw. Gerard was so focused on the seat belt that he wasn't looking at her. Frankie was trying really hard not to look at him, at his face, his lips so close, his hair falling over Frankie's arm. The seat belt clicked open and Gerard leaned back into his seat.

Frankie took a deep breath. She looked out of her window and saw that the street lights were off. The whole block was plunged into darkness. She couldn't even see her house.

"Frankie?"

She turned around to look at Gerard and he was still staring at her, probably waiting for an explanation. She wasn't sure she had one.

"I don't know," she muttered, tugging on the sleeves of her hoodie, her thumb poking out of a tiny rip in the fabric. "I guess I was just trying to have some fun." Frankie shrugged. That had to be the lamest explanation ever but it was all she could come up with. She was angry at Gerard but she wasn't even sure why.

"Lindsey thought you were a fucking asshole," Gerard said and his tone was louder, harsher than before.

"Who the fuck cares what your girlfriend thinks?" Frankie screamed. It was probably not the best idea she ever had since her throat was still a little sore from all the coughing and the almost dying from the week before but she couldn't help it. Her name in his mouth sounded wrong somehow.

Gerard opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, maybe throw a few hurtful comments at Frankie about how childish she was acting but the only thing that came out was a tiny moan. He looked a little baffled, like Frankie had punched him in the gut.

Obviously, they were done working out their issues. Frankie wanted Gerard to say something, anything. But he closed his mouth and turned back to stare at his clenched fists on the steering wheel. Frankie wanted to punch him, to tear the words out of his mouth with her bare hands.

"You know what, Gerard? Fuck you," Frankie said as she picked up her jacket and her bag off the floor.

She opened the door and it creaked loudly, like in some kind of horror movie. She stepped out of the car and slammed the door behind her as hard as she could. It banged loudly and dogs started barking everywhere around the neighborhood.

Frankie ran to her house without even turning back to look at the car, taking a shortcut through her neighbors' clean cut lawns, jumping over the occasional flower bed or the forgotten kiddie bike in the driveway.

She jumped the neatly trimmed hedge of her neighbors and finally saw her house. She saw her tree and her bedroom window, slightly ajar. As soon as she reached her lawn, she heard the engine of Gerard's beat up car start and caught a glimpse of its headlights as Gerard made a U-Turn in the middle of her street.

Frankie stopped at the foot of the oak tree for a moment, her forehead pressed against the trunk, her hands clenched into fists. She wanted to punch something. She wanted to feel her knuckles crack. She wanted to bite her lip until it bled.

When she started climbing up the tree, slipping and almost falling a couple of times on her way up, what Frankie wanted most of all was to forget this day ever happened.

  
*

  
The more she thought about what happened at the theater (the popcorn throwing and the random bitch fits directed at poor guys who didn't deserve it, and then, later in Gerard's car with all the yelling), the more Frankie felt like the world's biggest tool. She wasn't any better than the assholes who thought throwing French fries or sticky paper balls in her hair was the most hilarious form of distraction ever. If Gerard didn't want to be friends with her anymore, Frankie couldn't blame him, even though it would kind of suck.

Her flimsy and ridiculous burst of anger was long gone when she went to bed that night and when she woke up the next day, the stupid German shepherd barking for no reason at seven in the fucking morning, Frankie spent at least one hour staring at her phone on the nightstand, curled up in a tiny ball under her blankets and trying to decide whether calling Gerard would be a good idea or the stupidest she ever had. It was too early anyway. He was probably still sleeping. If she did call, Gerard would most definitely hang up on her. Besides, she didn't even know what to tell him except something along the lines of _Sorry I was a jealous tool. Please, be my friend again._

She tried to dial his number a couple of times on Saturday while she was hanging out with Alicia and Bob at the record store. Alicia seemed to think calling him to apologize would probably not be enough. Bob suggested she showed up at his house with flowers and chocolate and maybe a serenade and it took Frankie a couple of minutes to realize he was just messing with her.

Frankie tried to call Gerard a few more times on Sunday, sneaking out of a boring family dinner with some distant relatives who talked way too loud, cursed a lot in Italian, kept telling Frankie she was getting fat and that it was time she knew what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.

Every time Frankie took her phone out of her pocket, she stared at it with the same helplessness and shoved it back in her hoodie in frustration. She needed more time to come up with the right words. She was also pretty sure Gerard needed her to back off for a while. His new girlfriend and his art project probably took enough of his time anyway.

When Frankie woke up on Monday morning, a lump in her throat and something stirring in the pit of her stomach, she wanted to ditch more than anything so she wouldn't have to deal with Gerard. It wasn't like people were going to notice she was gone. She could call the school secretary pretending to be the ever so intimidating Linda Iero and tell her that her kid was sick again. Maybe another one of her bronchitis fits would have done the trick.

Alicia and Bob joined Frankie by the front gate a few minutes before the bell rang. She was sitting on the sidewalk, smoking her first cigarette of the day, lazily widening the hole in the sleeve of her hoodie with her thumb and toying with the idea of hiding in the bathroom until lunch time, just so she wouldn't have to run into Gerard.

But as it turned out, Gerard wasn't anywhere in the hallways that morning. Frankie didn't see him later during lunch either. Maybe he was avoiding Frankie just like she had been avoiding him the week before.

  
*

  
On Tuesday morning, Frankie found him at his usual spot, up on the roof, smoking in silence and watching the world at his feet. Maybe Gerard wasn't avoiding her after all. Maybe he had been there all along, waiting for her.

Frankie took a couple of steps towards him, dragging her feet against the concrete and Gerard looked up at her over his shoulder. He turned back to whatever he was watching after a second, leaving Frankie standing there, still, her heart beating a little faster than it should have been and her stomach churning. She wasn't really good at apologies.

The school marching band was spread all across the football field, rehearsing for a big game or so it seemed. Frankie couldn't see Bob from where she was standing but she knew he was there somewhere as he and his friend Ray Toro were both marching band geeks.

Frankie walked over to the ledge, listening to the music for a little while, the wind carrying the notes all the way up to the roof. Marching band music always made her think about the times she watched the Thanksgiving parade on TV with her dad. That was one of the things Frankie was going to miss the most about not having her dad around anymore. This and their monthly horror movie marathon.

Unsurprisingly, the lump in her throat reappeared. Frankie tried to swallow it as she looked down at Gerard again.

He was staring at her but his eyes were nowhere near her face. He was staring at her skirt and probably at her pasty white thighs. He didn't look like one of those perverts who like to ogle girls though. He had the same expression he always had when he was drawing something or when he was watching the clouds. Frankie pulled down her skirt anyway and took another step towards him.

Gerard's eyes shot up, a little unfocused like he was just waking up and Frankie realized he was blushing. He turned quickly, looking down at the football field and then greeted her, almost mumbling when he said, "Hi, Frankie."

"Hi," she replied, timidly, before closing the distance between them, still clinging to her stupid skirt and trying to hold it in place, the wind blowing under it, making it look like Frankie was wearing some kind of tiny parachute.

She sat down next to Gerard on the ledge, shifting nervously and pulling her skirt down a little, just to cover her pale thighs and the tiny bruise she didn't even remember getting, right above her knee. Her leg briefly touched Gerard's, the rough fabric of his pants rubbing against her naked skin and neither her or Gerard jerked back or pulled away.

They stayed like this for a couple of minutes, sitting side by side, close enough that Frankie could hear Gerard's slow breathing. Frankie dangled her legs from the ledge in rhythm with the music.

Then, she turned to look at Gerard again. He didn't look any different than usual, just a little more tired if anything. He was probably still working on his art thing. He didn't look angry at her either, even though he had every reason to be. He was just the same Gerard he always was, a little less chatty than usual though. He took a drag from his cigarette and Frankie stared at his lopsided mouth and at his fingers until he caught her eyes on him.

"Can I bum you one?" Frankie slurred, pointing at the bump in Gerard's jacket before chewing on her bottom lip.

Gerard dug up a battered pack of Marlboros from his pocket and handed it to her. He held on to it though and Frankie tried not to touch his fingers too much as she pulled a cigarette and Gerard's pink Bic lighter out of the pack. He gave her a small smile and said, "You shouldn't have to ask."

Frankie smiled back, the cigarette hanging from her curved up lips and Gerard helped her light it while she sheltered the flickering flame from the wind between her cupped hands, Gerard's hand brushing up against her wrist.

The first drag felt so good that Frankie closed her eyes and tilted her head back. For a few seconds, she enjoyed the way the cigarette felt between her fingers, the paper smooth and warm against her skin, completing her hand and the tobacco prickling her lungs. She opened her eyes, pushing the hair out of her face and exhaled, the wind blowing the smoke away from her lips.

Gerard pocketed his cigarettes and wrapped his arms around his chest.

"They're actually pretty good," Gerard said, pointing at the marching band with his chin. "I'm not sure I like the military aspect of it though. I'd like to see something more chaotic."

"I'm sorry."

The words came out of her mouth before she even had time to really think them through and Frankie realized that apologizing to Gerard was actually much easier than she thought it would be.

Gerard turned to her and blew smoke out of the corner of his lopsided mouth. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Frankie pushed the hair out of her face again because the wind kept blowing it back in front of her eyes and took another drag on her cigarette. She pulled it out of her mouth and added, "I acted like a complete moron for no reason and I ruined your date."

Gerard's eyes widened and then, he fucking chuckled.

"It wasn't a date. Not for me. You on the other hand ..." he said, grinning like a motherfucker. Was he mocking her?

Frankie chose to ignore the last part of the comment because she really didn't feel like talking to Gerard about Matt and how much of a disaster _her date_ ended up to be. Her brain did register the part about Gerard not being on a date though. Loud and clear. It was like the words _Not a date_ were flashing in big neon lights, all pink and tacky like a sign outside of a strip club.

"But Lindsey and you. You're like, together," she said, tugging at the tiny bits of dead skin on her bottom lip. She really needed to stop chewing on it so much.

Gerard shook his head. He wasn't smiling anymore. "No. Lindsey and I are just friends. You know, she's been helping me a lot with my triptych. She pretty much kept me sane while you weren't around."

Frankie's fingers tensed around her cigarette. She put it back between her chapped lips, trying to hide a proud grin.

"You guys have a lot in common," he said with a smile. "You haven't lived until you heard her cover of Poison. That shit is whack."

If things in common meant they liked the same guy, then, yes, they definitely had things in common although Frankie liked the idea of someone as cool as Lindsey covering her favorite Alice Cooper song.

"You should really give her a chance," he added after a pause and then, he shifted on the ledge, his leg brushing up against Frankie's. He moved back a little and turned to face her.

"And now, she thinks I'm an asshole," Frankie said as her eyes dropped on the tiny bruise on her knee. Maybe she did this one when she almost fell off the tree. She pressed the tip of her index finger on it, testing the rough edges to see if it still hurt. It _really_ did. Frankie quickly removed her fingertip from the purple area and rubbed it slowly and carefully with her knuckles.

When she looked up, Gerard was staring at her bruised knee. He was probably interested in it from a strictly artistic point of view. The colors were kind of pretty to look at, the purple fading with hints of red and yellow.

Gerard looked up after a few seconds and smiled. "I told her you were awesome, but she might need some more convincing."

Frankie shrugged. "I know I was a tool," she said with a sigh.

"You were kind of an asshole, yeah," Gerard agreed distractingly as he put out his cigarette against the concrete, crushing it between his fingers.

This wasn't really what Frankie wanted to hear. She had hoped for something a little nicer, something that might have made her feel less like shit but Gerard didn't even try to argue with her conclusions.

There was a long awkward silence and Frankie realized that she couldn't hear music anymore. She leaned over the ledge and saw that the marching band had deserted the football field. She took another drag on her cigarette and tipped the ashes with her index finger. They swirled in the wind before landing back on the ledge, some of them falling on Frankie's no longer pristine white shirt, in her hair and on Gerard's unkempt pants. There was something that looked like chalk on it too, something shaped like a hand print.

"Did I do something?" Gerard asked as he brushed off the ashes on his thighs with the back of his hand. "To make you angry, I mean."

Frankie shook her head vehemently and spread her legs so she could drop her cherry over the ledge and watch it plummet down. She didn't really know what to say besides that she had missed him like hell. It wasn't like she could tell him she was fucking jealous of Lindsey and of all the attention she got from him to the point where she wanted to claw her face off every time she saw them together. It wasn't really appropriate friend behavior.

"I think I just missed this," she replied, back to poking at her bruised knee and trying to avoid looking up at Gerard because she could feel her cheeks turning bright red. "You know, being here with you. Two weeks is a fucking long time, man." Her voice trembled and sounded a little more whiny than she intended. She bit her bottom lip and looked up at Gerard and saw that he was looking back at her.

"I've missed you," Gerard said, reaching forward and wrapping an arm around Frankie's waist. It wasn't some big romantic gesture or anything but Frankie felt her heart leap in her chest and she just knew things between them were okay again.

"Me too." Frankie leaned into the touch and put her head on Gerard's shoulder. "I missed you too."

Frankie closed her eyes and clasped her hands together, breathing in Gerard's smell, stale tobacco and coffee everywhere on his jacket. He had showered again though. His hair was soft and smelled like something sugary.

When Gerard let go of her waist, Frankie pulled away from his warmth reluctantly and shifted back on her spot on the ledge.

"Never get sick again, ok?"

Frankie wished she could have made such a promise. Being sick all the time was fucking annoying but it wasn't like she could buy a new immune system at Pathmark. She gave Gerard an earnest smile and said, "I can't promise you that but maybe you could drop by and say hi to the snot monster next time."

Frankie grinned and Gerard grinned back at her.

"Speaking of snot monster, did you like it?" Gerard suddenly asked, looking into her eyes, expectant. "I wasn't sure -"

"I fucking loved it, man. I hung it up in my room and everything," Frankie replied excitedly. She was grinning so much that she thought her face was going to stay stuck like this.

"I wasn't sure you'd like it," he said and he sounded so fucking modest that Frankie wanted to kiss him or slap him, or maybe both. "I did a few more but I didn't get to see Alicia and I didn't know when you were coming back," he added, scrambling up to his feet and pulling a couple of sketches from his notepad. He handed them to Frankie and then started biting his nails, looking all nervous and jittery, as if Frankie was some kind of big time art critic.

The first drawing was pretty much the most amazing thing Frankie had ever seen. It wasn't colored or anything but it was rad as hell. In the middle of the page stood a tiny girl zombie with a button nose, a bloody crooked mouth, empty eye sockets and hands reaching out of the page to grab whoever laid their eyes on her. It was a Frankie zombie, of course. The likeness was stunning. Well, it would have been if Frankie had been a zombie. Gerard was really talented, especially with morbid and creepy stuff. That was probably one of the reasons Frankie liked him so much.

Frankie giggled and shot a glance at Gerard. He smiled while still chewing on his nails.

"You like it?"

"Fuck yeah," Frankie replied before looking down at the drawing again.

She flipped the page, revealing the second drawing, a fantastic inked drawing of herself. No zombies this time and no monsters. Nothing creepy or morbid. Just her face, framed by long strands of black hair, a cigarette dangling from the black curves of her lips. She looked pretty much like she always did except Gerard had managed to make her look prettier. She looked like a kickass character from a comic book; something right out of Sin City, black and white with just a dash of red and kind of sexy.

Frankie clung to the drawings so the wind wouldn't carry them away and looked up at Gerard again, still smiling.

"I love them," she whispered and crawled back on her feet. Gerard gave her a coy smile and Frankie had to refrain from giving him an epically tight, possibly rib crushing hug. "Thank you, Gerard," Frankie added before folding the drawings carefully and tucking them in the waistband of her skirt.

"So, hmm," Gerard said as Frankie adjusted her skirt and smoothed it out. "Mikey and I are hosting a D&D campaign soon and," he announced, staring at Frankie's hands on her skirt. He didn't sound very sure of himself when he added, "I was wondering if you'd like to come by on Friday so we could talk rules."

"Sure," Frankie giggled. All she really knew about Dungeons and Dragons came from watching the cartoon when she was little. She vaguely remembered Diana the acrobat and a dude called Hank but that was pretty much the extend of her knowledge. "D&D rules. Sounds exciting," she said, still giggling.

Gerard wasn't laughing at all. He frowned at her and said, "'D&D is serious business, Frankie," in a stern voice that only made Frankie laugh harder.

Frankie was still giggling when she joined Alicia and Bob behind the cafeteria, barely noticing Mikey who was sitting with them under the tree.

  
*

  
It was raining that night. Frankie didn't really mind that much although, once again, she wasn't wearing waterproof clothes but her favorite wolf head hoodie. She really needed to get her mom to buy her a new raincoat or something. She used to have a tiny yellow coat that barely covered anything but it was rotting somewhere in a closet downstairs, probably too tight for her now that she had a semblance of breasts.

Frankie opened her window a little after eleven, when she was sure her mom was sleeping like a rock and stepped onto the branches of the oak tree, holding on tight and started climbing down carefully. She pulled the window shut after her and resumed her slow descent, trying to watch her steps although it was too dark to see much. Everything was going pretty smoothly until Frankie's foot slipped on one of the slick branches. She was still too high above the ground to let go so she clung tighter to the branches, trying to find somewhere to put her feet. The tree was too slippery because of the rain and she didn't have enough strength in her arms to lever herself back up. She tried not to let go but her fingers slipped and slid along the branch, splinters piercing her skin.

Frankie didn't land on her feet like she usually did. She fell off the tree as gracelessly as a sack of prime shit and windmilled her arms frantically which was pretty much a useless thing to do. She dropped onto the lawn, on one knee, the one that was already bruised and there was a strange and ominous popping sound coming from her right ankle.

She didn't feel anything at first. She was too busy trying to breathe again to care about her ankle and how it was bending at a weird angle. She pulled her hood up on her already dripping hair and looked around, just to make sure no one had witnessed her spectacular fall. Then, she slowly crawled back up, clawing at the wet and muddy grass with her poor bloody fingers, her feet slipping and sinking into the ground.

She was almost standing upright when she felt the excruciating pain in her ankle. It traveled all the way up her leg like some kind of electric surge and Frankie fell back on her knees with a whimper. She tried to stand up again, groaning and cursing through her teeth. This couldn't be happening to her. Not tonight. Frankie wouldn't be able to climb back up any time soon, not when she could barely stand on her feet. Her mom was going to fucking kill her.

Frankie wrapped an arm around the tree trunk and pulled herself back up, pressing a hand to her mouth to muffle a scream. It was much more painful than the time she had broken her toes. Maybe her ankle was broken. Or her foot. Frankie tried to put some weight on her right leg but decided otherwise when she took a couple of small steps on the lawn, stumbling forward awkwardly before falling back on her knees.

It took her five minutes or so before she managed to stay upright. She hopped and limped on her way to the corner of the street where she was to meet Gerard, her foot slipping a little in the wet grass. She ground her teeth and tried not to scream her lungs out, tears streaming down her face, mixing in with the rain drops.

Gerard's dirty Subaru was pulling over by the curb when Frankie emerged from the shadows of her neighbors' house, her clothes covered in mud, wiping her face with the sleeve of her hoodie. She probably looked pitiful, maybe like a zombie or some kind of creature from the black fucking lagoon and she didn't want Gerard to see she had been crying like a fucking baby.

Gerard didn't get out of the car. He was early and probably thought that Frankie wasn't going to show up for another ten minutes. He turned off his engine, rolled his window down and Frankie could hear something that sounded vaguely like old school Madonna blasting on the radio.

When he eventually noticed Frankie, she was only a few feet away from his car, limping and moaning as she stepped down the sidewalk. Gerard turned off the radio, leaned across the passenger seat and unlocked the door, pushing it open for her with a grin.

"Hi," he said cheerfully just as Frankie stepped inside the car.

She collapsed onto the seat, biting on her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. She shut the door and tilted her head back on the headrest, her breathing ragged as she yanked on her seat belt. She shut her eyes and waited for Gerard to start the car. _Any moment now_.

When he didn't, Frankie opened her eyes and turned to him.

"Everything okay, Frankie?" Gerard asked, giving her a worried look and putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah. I just fell," she replied, putting her ankle up on the dashboard and pulling the leg of her jeans up to assess the damages.

It didn't look too bad, maybe a little swollen and red but it wasn't as bad as she had thought it would be. No bone breaking through her skin and no blood. Nothing gross like that. She could deal with a twisted ankle. She had survived a few broken toes before so this was nothing she couldn't handle.

Gerard let go of her shoulder and stared down at her ankle for a few seconds before leaning closer and poking at it carefully with his index finger. He drew circles over her sensitive skin, pulling Frankie's jeans further up and looked up at her as he asked, "Does it hurt a lot?" His eyes looked kind of big in the darkness.

Frankie sucked in a breath and nodded. "Yeah. Fuck. It hurts like a motherfucker."

Gerard wrapped a hand around Frankie's ankle and started stroking her skin very gently with his thumb. She was bruising rapidly and it looked like her ankle was twice its normal size. Gerard touching her wasn't helping at all. Every time he laid a finger on the bruise, Frankie jerked back and gasped.

"Shit, I'm sorry," he said before removing his hand from her ankle and pulling her jeans back down.

He looked up again and pulled her hood off, pushing the wet hair away from her face. Frankie didn't move and watched his hand reach for her cheek. He rubbed his thumb over it and Frankie thought she was going to die.

"Mud," he explained when he finally pulled his hand away, his fingers smeared with dirt.

Frankie would have probably enjoyed this moment a lot more if she hadn't been in so much pain. Gerard was so gentle, so careful.

"What do you want to do?" he asked after a second, turning back to the wheel and rubbing his fingers together to get rid of the mud. "I could take you to the hospital."

"Just..." Frankie couldn't go home and she couldn't go to the hospital either. She wanted to stay with Gerard. Maybe not in his car, though. They needed to get out of her street before the neighbors saw her. "Drive, please?" she asked, squirming and putting her feet up onto her seat. _Fuck putting mud everywhere._ She could always clean it up later. Gerard was kind of a slob anyway so he wasn't going to say anything for a dirty passenger seat. Frankie started massaging her seemingly twisted ankle and watched as Gerard shifted in his seat, fumbling with his seatbelt.

Gerard turned the key in the ignition and Frankie let out a sigh of relief when the engine started after a couple of loud coughs. Gerard pulled away from the curb, his fingers tightly clenched around the wheel. He was definitely not a great driver as he seemed a little reckless, especially when it came to speed limits. He was also a little too distracted by Frankie and her ankle to pay enough attention to the anything else. He checked up on her too much, his eyes leaving the road every ten seconds to look at her face, his hand grabbing her shoulder and patting it. When he finally pulled over in his driveway and turned off the engine, Frankie was clinging to her seat, the pain in her ankle almost forgotten.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the ER?" Gerard asked when Frankie limped out of the car, clinging to the seatbelt and trying to lever herself up. "It might be more serious than a twisted ankle," he added, grave.

Frankie shook her head no and Gerard circled the car, rushing to help her, wrapping an arm around her waist and carrying her to the front door. They walked through the quiet house and into the kitchen before he took her downstairs, straight to his room, helping her hop down the basement stairs and holding onto her tight.

He dropped Frankie onto his bed and walked out of the room for a minute, probably to lock his car or the front door or maybe to tell his mom they had a guest. Frankie sat up at the edge of the bed, panting and quickly scanned Gerard's room. The pool of red paint was gone from the floor and the mess had been tidied up a bit. The desk was still cluttered with unfinished sketches and paintbrushes soaking in bottle of Mountain Dew filled with dirty stagnant water.

There was a series of canvases by the bed, three of them, large squares etched with tall black figures standing in endless fields of bleached bones, sad looking faces and piercing black eyes. Frankie realized it was probably Gerard's triptych. It looked pretty amazing, although unfinished. Something seemed to be missing from the middle canvas. There were still a few pencil outlines left there, foreshadowing another character, just a shadowless ghost holding something that looked like a scythe. Maybe it was Death.

Frankie heard a door slam upstairs as she lifted up her ankle slightly, cringing at the sight of her swollen and purple skin. The pain was pulsing underneath, fast, in rhythm with the beating of her heart. She stared down at her fingers, tiny cuts and dry blood on the tips and mud under her nails. Her jeans were a little ripped at the knee, exposing her bruised skin, dirty, bloody, scraped.

When Gerard came back, his long black hair dripping water on his shoulders and his sneakers squeaking onto the linoleum, he pushed the door behind him without really closing it and knelt down at the foot of the bed, grabbing Frankie's leg with both hands and putting it in his lap. He pulled Frankie's jeans up so he could examine her ankle again. He also took off her shoe, very carefully and rolled her sock down before tentatively stroking her burning hot skin.

Frankie flinched at the contact of his cold and wet fingers and Gerard let go of her, putting her foot down gingerly.

"Mikey not around?" Frankie asked as she sucked in a breath.

Gerard shook his head and gave Frankie a suspicious look as he got up. "Really, what the fuck happened to you?"

"I told you. I fell," Frankie replied, shifting and laying her leg across the bed. She read somewhere that putting your leg up helped. Something about blood and swelling, she didn't really remember. She wasn't sure how or if it really worked for whatever she did to her ankle but it couldn't hurt to try.

"You jumped off a building to see if you could fly like Superman?" Gerard asked without a hint of a smile, pacing nervously around the room while staring at Frankie. He sounded vaguely pissed off at her for some reason. Maybe he was freaking out because he was starting to sound like Frankie's mom. "This looks bad, Frankie. I think you might need a doctor."

"I fell off a fucking tree, Gerard. I didn't jump. I didn't break anything. I'm fucking fine." Her voice broke a little at the end, making it sound more like a cry. There went her credibility.

Gerard opened his mouth and shook his head before walking out of the room. He disappeared into the hallway, dragging his feet and Frankie heard some kind of ruckus upstairs. Frankie waited patiently, hoping Gerard wasn't doing something stupid like calling an ambulance. She curled up in bed, trying to ignore the throbbing in her ankle, staring blankly at the triptych. Maybe her ankle wasn't just twisted. Maybe Gerard was right and it was worse than that.

"Why where you on a tree anyway?" Gerard asked as he walked back inside the room, carrying a tiny bag in his hands. This time, he closed the door. He looked down at Frankie's ankle and knelt at the foot of the bed once again. Frankie sat up and obediently stretched out her leg into Gerard's lap.

He stared into her eyes, obviously waiting for an answer and Frankie chuckled, "'Cause climbing trees is fun?"

"I could drive you to the ER," he offered, pressing a bag of what appeared to be peas purchased and frozen about a decade or two ago around Frankie's ankle.

The cold made her squirm and struggle but Gerard held onto her tighter.

"No. No. No fucking way," she stuttered. "They know my mom over there. I'm like a celebrity or some shit. They have this huge ass file on me," she added, breathless as Gerard took a peek beneath the bag. It was still purple and swollen and kind of gross under there. "I don't want my mom to know I sneaked out. She'd fucking kill me."

The hospital was going to call her mom in the middle of the night, wake her up from her chemical induced sleep and have her come pick up her stupid careless delinquent of a daughter. She was probably going to lock up Frankie in her room forever and board up her windows or some shit. This wasn't really an option Frankie was willing to consider. Not any time soon.

"I don't know what to do. It could be something serious," Gerard said, dabbing the frozen bag gently over the swollen area. It dulled the pain quite efficiently. "I don't know what I'm doing."

"It's not broken. Frozen peas are fine. Don't worry," she said, forcing herself to smile. She didn't want to freak out Gerard by telling him she couldn't feel her right foot anymore or how her knees kind of hurt a lot too now. Gerard was probably better not knowing about this. Everything was her fault anyway and kind of her mom's too when she thought about it.

Gerard patted her knee through her wet jeans and Frankie shivered; maybe because the peas were too fucking cold or maybe because her clothes were all wet and sticking to her skin. Gerard seemed to notice because he put down the bag of peas on the floor and put her leg back on the bed.

"You should take this off before you get sick again," he said, reaching over and tugging on the sleeve of Frankie's hoodie.

Frankie shrugged and shuddered, both at the same time. "Yeah. I guess."

She slowly unzipped her damp hoodie, struggling for a few seconds to take it off her shoulders before dropping it at the foot of the bed. The Misfits t-shirt she wore underneath was mostly dry and she pulled it back down to cover her stomach. Her jeans were wet too though and the denim was clinging to her skin. She looked up at Gerard and put her hand on the zipper. She couldn't really take them off, not in front of Gerard.

Gerard's eyes widened and he got up quickly, probably reading Frankie's mind. His voice was a little raspy when he said, "Take these off too."

He turned around and walked off to his closet, leaving Frankie some privacy so she could get rid of her sticky and muddy jeans. Maybe she could have wrapped herself up in one of Gerard's fleece blankets while her clothes dried. They looked kind of comfortable and warm although maybe a little stinky. She slid out of her jeans and dropped them onto the floor next to her hoodie before pulling one of the blankets onto her lap. It would have to do.

"Let me see if I can find you something dry," Gerard told her, almost mumbling and not even trying to take a peek over his shoulder. He was rad like that.

Frankie stared down at the blanket for a second and poked a finger through a tiny hole, probably left by a cigarette judging by the singed halo embedded in the cloth. When she looked up again, her fingers still picking at the burnt fabric, Gerard was searching through his closet, looking a little frantic as he pulled out a couple of things, a pair of ratty old pajama pants with dinosaurs on it that were probably a little too large for Frankie and a plain black sweat shirt. Gerard turned around after a few seconds, a hand covering his eyes and threw the pants and the sweat shirt at Frankie.

She caught them easily and put the pants on, hurriedly, lying down on the bed and arching her back to pull them all the way up. She sat back up and told Gerard, "Ok, you can look now."

He removed the hand from his face and gave her a timid smile before sitting down on the bed next to her and poking at the discarded clothes with the toe of his sneakers.

"Do you think I should put them in my mom's dryer like this?" he asked, looking up at Frankie. "Or maybe I should wash them first?" Frankie shrugged because she didn't really care what Gerard did with her clothes.

"Don't bother washing them," she said, staring at the tiny dinosaurs on her thighs. She would have never taken Gerard for a T-Rex kind of guy.

Frankie didn't really need the sweat shirt because it was already kind of warm in Gerard's room but she put it on anyway. It smelled like Gerard, paint and cigarette with a hint of sweat. Did he ever wash the thing?

"It smells like paint," she commented, pulling her hair up in a ponytail before letting it fall on her shoulders.

"Sorry."

Gerard grabbed Frankie's ankle and put it in his lap. He started stroking it, caressing her skin under the pajamas, his fingers venturing up to her knee.

"No, it's okay. It kinda smells like you," Frankie said, feeling her cheeks turn red.

"I smell like paint?" Gerard asked, frowning and sniffing at his t-shirt and at his armpits.

"Among other things, yeah," Frankie giggled and Gerard looked a little hurt, his fingers no longer stroking her. She didn't want to hurt his feelings so she stopped laughing and patted his arm. "No, that's good. I love the way you smell."

They exchanged this very awkward look, Gerard's face flushed and her cheeks burning. Then, Gerard picked up the bag of frozen peas from the floor and applied it on Frankie's ankle while stroking her leg, his fingers running on her calf and under her knee.

He pulled the pajamas up to her knees after a little while and looked up at Frankie.

"Does this hurt?" he asked, tentatively laying a finger on the tiny cuts and bruises on her knee.

It didn't hurt at all. She could only feel Gerard's caress over her skin. It was like his fingers suddenly had magical healing powers.

"No. Feels good," Frankie sighed before reaching out to touch Gerard, cupping his jaw between her hands. She just needed to touch him.

She started stroking his cheeks with her thumbs and Gerard froze. His fingers were no longer moving up and down her leg. He was just staring into her eyes, perfectly still. Frankie wasn't sure if he was even breathing.

Frankie had kissed boys before. Twice.

Once in elementary school. A kid called Nestor. They had been boyfriend and girlfriend for about five minutes before he decided he didn't like girls anymore. He probably thought Frankie had cooties. He was an idiot.

Her second kiss was with a boy named Greg -- like Greg Attonito of the Bouncing Souls or Greg Ginn of Black Flag. This was definitely one of the reasons why Frankie had let him kiss her. After all, it seemed like all the cool people were named Greg. This particular Greg wasn't ugly or anything. The boy wore braces though and he smelled strongly of onion and pot. Frankie was thirteen and he didn't look that much older. It hadn't been a great kiss, just something stolen and brief, in a corner of the kitchen at Frankie's aunt Vittoria's. Every year she invited all her neighbors and her family for a giant barbecue, the same faces year after year. Frankie never saw Greg before that day though and she never saw him again after, not that she was actually looking for him or anything.

Frankie wasn't an expert at kissing. She knew the basics though. She knew you were supposed to close your eyes and tilt your head for practical yet obscure reasons. She also had all this useless knowledge about French kissing she never had any chance to practice on anyone but her pillow.

When she finally leaned forward, almost climbing into Gerard's lap, her brain was still working overtime, thinking about stupid stuff like toothpaste and gum and braces. She closed her eyes, her fingers still stroking Gerard's hot skin. Everything was quiet for a few seconds and Frankie thought Gerard wasn't going to move, that she had turned him into stone just by touching him.

When she opened her eyes, Gerard was leaning closer, his face still framed by Frankie's fingers. It was like he was in slow motion.

Frankie quickly closed the gap between their lips, pressing them together gently. She felt Gerard's hand move away from her leg and grab her, his fingers latching onto her hips and pulling her onto his lap. Her ankle hurt just a little when it slid off Gerard's lap but Frankie didn't really care. She was kissing Gerard and he was kissing her back and it was really all that mattered.

It wasn't awkward or bad at all, just a little weird. Their lips were barely moving at first and Frankie was pretty sure you were supposed to move them, at least a little bit.

Frankie opened her mouth slightly and Gerard opened his too. She poked at Gerard's lips with the tip of her tongue, just licking them, tasting them and Gerard did the same, meeting her halfway. Then, she caught Gerard's bottom lip between her own and planted a kiss there, something noisy and kind of wet and did it again and again.

Frankie wasn't sure she had the whole kissing thing down until she felt Gerard tense against her. He let out a tiny moan that died down against Frankie's mouth and his fingers tightened on her hips, sliding under the hem of the sweat shirt and her t-shirt, stroking her.

Gerard kept his hands around her waist the whole time and Frankie kept hers on Gerard's face too, stroking his chin, his neck, her fingers slithering past the collar of his shirt to touch more. His skin was burning under her fingertips and she could feel his warm breath brushing against her cheek.

Gerard broke the kiss after a minute or two or maybe after an hour, Frankie couldn't be sure. She kept her eyes shut anyway. There were no fireworks, no chorus of angels, nothing but the feeling of Gerard's lips against hers long after he had pulled away. It felt good and warm deep inside her stomach. She could hear her own heart beating, fast and so loud Gerard could probably hear it too.

Then, she heard something else. Her cellphone was buzzing annoyingly on the floor among the pile of discarded wet clothes. She opened her eyes slowly and everything looked a bit too bright, a bit blurry for a second. She blinked a couple of times, her eyes adjusting to their surroundings again and realized Gerard was staring at her, looking a little baffled and flushed, breathing through his slack and lopsided mouth. She let go of his face after running her thumb over his shiny red lips and her hands fell limp onto her lap.

"Hmm, phone," she mumbled when she had regained almost full use of her brain. The phone was still buzzing somewhere at the foot of the bed and Frankie couldn't move to reach for it. Gerard was still holding her tight, barely blinking as he stared at her.

"Please?" she said, a little louder, pointing at the clothes on the floor with her chin. "Could you?"

Gerard looked a bit confused for a moment and sighed, "Yeah." He didn't let go of her though, his thumb still stroking Frankie under her t-shirt. He didn't seem to want to move an inch to get Frankie's phone.

"No, I mean, could you grab it for me?" she asked, shaking her head.

"Oh. Sure. Sorry."

Frankie pulled back from his lap, hauling herself back onto the bed and Gerard let go of her, his fingers brushing against the small of her back and her hips as they slipped away.

He got up and carefully put Frankie's leg onto the bed before crouching on the floor and going through the pile of clothes, the phone buzzing insistently.

By the time Gerard dug up the phone from the pocket of Frankie's jeans and handed it to her, the buzzing had stopped. Frank plucked it from Gerard's fingers and checked the call log, hoping it would be Alicia or maybe Bob who had tried to reach her so late at night. Alicia knew Frankie was at Gerard's. Maybe she wanted to check up on her or more accurately, spy on her. The number wasn't Alicia's though. It wasn't Bob's either but another way too familiar one. Frankie almost dropped her phone when it buzzed again in her hands. _New voice mail._

"Shit. My mom," Frankie finally said, looking down at Gerard, still crouched by the bed. She turned off her phone before shoving it in the pocket of her borrowed sweater, ignoring the voice mail. "I need to go home now," she announced, trying to get up. She fell back on her ass as soon as her feet touched the ground. Her ankle still hurt too much, so much that she couldn't walk at all.

  
*

  
Gerard picked Frankie up off the bed and carried her in his arms, out of his room, up the stairs, across the driveway. Maybe Gerard was stronger than he looked; like some kind of weirdo Clark Kent without glasses but prettier and much cooler. Frankie stared at his face the entire time, thinking about his lips on hers and his fingers on her hips. His hands were actually on Frankie as he was carrying her to his car, his arms around her, wrapped around her knees and around the small of her back. He sat her down onto the passenger seat and leaned across her lap to fasten her seat belt, as if she couldn't do it herself. She was still in his pajamas and his sweater, her own clothes in a ball, tucked in her lap.

Frankie decided it was useless to listen to the voice mail her mom had left. She didn't really need to hear her mom lecture her about sneaking out and boys and drugs in a message when she was going to have the real, live version of it as soon as she would step out of Gerard's car.

The drive home was quick; too quick for Frankie's taste anyway given what was waiting for her there. Gerard didn't say much and Frankie wasn't really in the mood to make small talk, not after everything that had happened, the fall, the kiss, her mom finding out she had sneaked out. It was probably the weirdest night Frankie ever had.

"I. Hm. I think..."

Frankie turned around and Gerard looked a little nervous, his hands clutching onto the wheel so tight that Frankie thought he was going to crush it with his superhero strength.

He opened his mouth again and Frankie waited, hopeful. Maybe he wasn't in the mood for small talk either. "Yeah?"

Frankie wanted to talk about the kiss and not about how cold it was in the car or something stupid like that. She wanted to make sure they were okay and that Gerard didn't have any regrets about it. She didn't really know where they were anymore, if they were still friends or if the kiss had changed everything. Maybe she wanted to have another go at it too, if Gerard let her. It was too late though as the car turned at the corner of her street.

Gerard cleared his throat as he pulled over, right in front of Frankie's house and the light on the front porch flickered on. The lights were also on in her room and in her mom's room. Actually, it looked like every light in the house was on. "I'm fucking dead," she whispered to herself, tugging at the sleeve of her sweater -- Gerard's sweater.

"I just wanted to say..." Gerard started, turning to Frankie and putting a hand on top of hers on her lap. "I wanted to-"

The front door of the house flung open and Frankie's mom stormed out, looking like she was about to kill someone, probably Frankie first and then Gerard. She was definitely going after Gerard too.

"Oh, shit," Frankie muttered, yanking on her seat belt to take it off. Her mom walked across the lawn in her night gown, her hair a curly mess and stopped a few feet away from the car. She was smoking; for the first time since she quit three years ago. She took a drag on her cigarette -- did she find Frankie's stash under her bed? -- and flicked the butt towards the car.

"Your mom looks pretty pissed," Gerard commented and Frankie had to refrain from saying something like _Duh_ or _no shit Sherlock_.

"She _is_ pissed," she said instead and Gerard let go of her hand.

"Are you gonna be okay?" Gerard asked, worry creasing his forehead.

"I'm fucking dead, Gerard," Frankie said as she opened the door. She slipped out of the car, carefully, trying not to put too much weight on her right ankle as she stood up, clinging to the door frame, her dirty clothes tucked under her arm in a ball.

"Frankie?" Gerard called, leaning across the passenger seat, his belt almost strangling him. "Are you gonna be okay?" he asked again, more intently.

"I'll see you in school, Gerard," Frankie said just as she slammed the door shut. Then she added, "Maybe," but he didn't seem to hear it.

She limped towards her mom, staring down at her ankle and trying not to slip on the wet grass.

Frankie waited for her mom to say something, yell at her or maybe slap her. But instead, she helped Frankie back inside the house without a single word. She probably didn't want to make a scene in the middle of the night. Her mom liked keeping up appearances. She walked Frankie to the kitchen and disappeared for a while, probably to call the hospital or maybe get Frankie committed.

When she came back, it was to walk Frankie to the couch where she had laid a blanket and a couple of pillows. Frankie sat down and her mom quickly examined both her ankles, lifting Gerard's pajama pants. Frankie's right ankle was definitely twice as big as the left one now and also a dark shade of purple. Her mom didn't touch it though and walked out of the living room, her eyes never meeting with Frankie's.

Her mom's silence was disturbing; more than Frankie thought it would be. Frankie had expected some shouting. She had expected something, like her mom calling her a fuck up or an idiot. It wouldn't have been a first. She knew how to react to this. She wasn't used to being shut off though. It felt as if her mom had given up on her, as if she didn't give a shit about her daughter anymore.

Frankie crawled under the blanket, her ankle propped up on the armrest. She didn't take off Gerard's sweater or his pajama pants. They were too comfortable and Gerard's smell was still lingering on them.

  
*

  
When she woke up the next morning, curled up in Gerard's sweater, Frankie was pretty sure her ankle was only sprained, not broken although it still looked gross and swollen and it hurt a lot too.

Frankie's mom took her to the hospital after a very light and very awkward breakfast during which she was still given the silent treatment. She didn't bother to change out of Gerard's clothes and her mom gave her a disgusted look, her lips pursed in a thin line when Frankie climbed inside the car in her dinosaur printed pajama pants.

Everyone at the emergency room gave Mrs Iero the same empathizing look they always gave her, full of pity, as if they all thought Frankie was too much of a burden, what with all the illnesses and the fact that she seemed very prone to accidents.

Doctor Cullan, a tall man with a rough looking black beard whom Frankie had only met once before when she had broken her toes, was the one to examine her ankle. He was careful but quick and then, he turned to Frankie's mom. He told _her_ the sprain wasn't too serious and that they wouldn't need X-Rays. He told _her_ that Frankie was going to need crutches for about a week but he ended up not saying much to Frankie herself besides a polite but very cold "Good morning" when entering the room. Frankie was starting to think the whole world was trying to ignore her very existence.

Frankie didn't get a cast; just some bandages and painkillers. And of course the crutches. _Fucking stupid crutches_. Frankie hated them already.

Her mom was still ignoring her when they came back from the hospital, Frankie struggling with her crutches, pulling them out of the back seat while still trying to keep her balance as she hopped on one foot.

Her mom didn't help her. She barely acknowledged her when she picked up Frankie's prescriptions in the backseat. She walked inside the house without a single glance back at Frankie.

After a strenuous but victorious battle against the stupid crutches, Frankie joined her mom inside the house to find her smoking, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Go up to your room now and stay there until I tell you to get out," she finally said, calmly just as Frankie was skipping towards the living room.

She turned around, as fast as her crutches enabled her and gave her mom a puzzled look. At least she was talking to her now. That was some kind of improvement.

"Give me your phone too," her mom ordered, glaring at Frankie from across the kitchen.

Frankie complied because she didn't really care that much about her phone. It wasn't like Gerard was going to call her any time soon. There was probably some unwritten rule about friends kissing other friends. Probably something about waiting at least three days before calling them.

Her mom cleared her throat and stared at Frankie intently, looking a little impatient as she tapped her foot against the tiled kitchen floor.

Frankie shrugged as she dug her phone out of the pocket of Gerard's sweat shirt and threw it on the table where it skidded past the plastic bag with her prescriptions. Her mom jumped slightly at the sound it made when it fell off the table and onto one of the chairs. Frankie turned around and sniggered as she climbed up the stairs to her room.

  
*

  
By Saturday afternoon, the oak tree by her window was gone.

Her mom had called uncle Antonio, asking him to come over and cut down the tree. Frankie was not really expecting something this drastic, something this permanent but her mom was a fucking lunatic and fucking lunatics did that sort of stuff.

For a couple of minutes, Frankie watched her uncle work on the tree, cutting branch after branch, watching them fall on the lawn. Then, she drew the blinds and collapsed onto her bed where she curled up, trying to muffle the sound of the chainsaw and of her screaming by burying her head under her pillow, her fists pounding against the mattress.

Frankie spent two days locked up in her room, moping, wishing she was dead, wishing her mom was dead, wishing Gerard was here with her, wishing she could sneak out and go see her dad.

She stayed in bed for the most part of her exile, a dim light filtering through her closed blinds, without her cellphone, without any other distraction than her comic books and her records. She also thought about the kiss a lot. She replayed the moment her lips touched Gerard's for the first time about a thousand times while running the tip of her fingers along the curve of her mouth, her eyes closed, Gerard's smell everywhere on her skin and on his sweater.

  
*

  
Frankie hated her crutches about as much as she hated her mom and the asshole doctor who made her walk around with them. They were ugly, made this stupid clinky noise when Frankie walked around school and people, mostly idiots who never spoke to her before, were really curious about them. Some dickwad thought they were so amazing that he stole them from her and Bob had to kick his ass to get them back. Frankie would have done it herself if she had been able to catch up with him but she appreciated the gesture anyway. She was very lucky to have Bob in her life.

By Tuesday, Frankie couldn't feel her arms and her shoulders anymore. Her armpits were sore as hell to make things worse. She decided to leave the crutches inside her locker and limped through the hallways for the better part of the morning until Bob took pity on her. He was probably tired of her constant whining and let her climb onto his back. He carried her to her algebra class and then, picked her up when she was done. Everyone was staring at them as Bob rushed through the hallways, Frankie on his back, giggling as she clung to him and Alicia running after them, carrying their books and pulling down Frankie's skirt every once in a while so Frankie didn't end up accidentally mooning the entire school. For once, Frankie didn't care that everyone was watching. Her friends were fucking rad.

  
*

  
It had been four days since Frankie saw Gerard and she was a little antsy -- and kind of handsy too, especially with Bob -- when she climbed on Bob's back and asked him to take her up to the roof. Sprained ankle or not, she wasn't going to miss ditch-Tuesday although she was technically not ditching for once. She had a doctor's note this time and a pretty solid reason not to show up to gym class.

Frankie told Bob to go faster as he rushed up the stairs, panting, grumbling, pissed off probably because he could never say no to her or to Alicia. He was really a big softie if you knew how to deal with him.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Bob pushed the door open and Frankie started bouncing up and down, almost strangling Bob in her excitement, her fingers clasping at his neck, twitchy. Frankie couldn't really help it.

Bob grumbled and Frankie climbed down his back when she saw Gerard standing at the edge of the roof, smoking a cigarette, staring down at his feet, pacing quietly. As soon as Frankie's feet touched the ground, he looked up and walked up to her, or more accurately, rushed to get to her.

Frankie limped towards him as fast as she could and Gerard wrapped an arm around her waist before giving Frankie a small but warm smile. "Hi."

"Hi," she whispered, smiling back.

There was a silence, a moment when Frankie wasn't really sure what she was supposed to do or say next. Gerard was looking at her and he wasn't moving or saying anything either. This was just fucking awkward.

"Yeah, hi. Great," Bob said behind them, sounding a little weary. "Hi." He cleared his throat and added, "You gonna be good now, Iero?"

"Yeah. Thanks Bob," Frankie said, looking over her shoulder and waving a couple of fingers at him. "Don't wait up on me, dad."

Bob flipped her off and Frankie giggled.

Gerard could probably help her back downstairs. It wouldn't be the first time he used his superhero strength on her.

"Thanks Bob," Gerard echoed as he walked Frankie to the ledge and helped her sit down at her usual spot, his fingers brushing up against her hip as he let go of her, her shirt riding up her back, her skin exposed.

"Thanks," she said, pulling down her shirt and shifting restlessly to get more comfortable.

The door closed with a loud thud behind her and Gerard crouched next to her, taking a drag on his cigarette and blowing the smoke out of the corner of his mouth.

"Feeling better?" Gerard asked as he looked down at her ankle, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Yeah." Frankie grinned and stretched out her legs, waving them in front of her, showing off the bandages on her ankle and the tiny ones on her knees where she had drawn little skulls and crossbones with a sharpie during first period.

"Nice," Gerard said, as he seemed to enjoy her handiwork, his chin resting on his arm.

"I have a Bob to carry me around too so that's pretty much awesome."

Gerard let out a breathy laugh and sat down next to Frankie. He dug up his cigarettes from his pants and took one out of the pack before handing it to Frankie.

He put his own cigarette back between his lips and Frankie stared at his mouth for a little while, remembering how his lips felt against her own, how they tasted under her tongue.

Gerard searched his pack of smokes for a second before going through his pockets, probably looking for his lighter.

When he finally found it in his jacket, he turned to Frankie and said, "Let me," like they were in some kind of old movie, something in black and white, maybe Casablanca or some shit.

Frank stuck the cigarette between her lips and Gerard reached out to light it for her. She stopped staring at his mouth and tried to focus on his hand, on his thumb, on the steady flame. Anything but his mouth.

"Thanks," she exhaled and Gerard gave her a smile that probably meant _You're welcome._

There were no clouds in the sky for them to watch that morning. The sky was a light shade of blue and the wind was warmer than usual, occasionally carrying the sound of traffic, dogs barking and unintelligible conversations up to the roof.

Frankie smoked in silence for a few minutes, watching her bandaged ankle dangle off the ledge. When she turned to Gerard, he was staring at his cigarette, rolling in around between his fingers, back and forth, back and forth, looking a little restless; maybe he was nervous.

"My mom cut down the tree," Frankie announced and Gerard's hand finally steadied.

"Oh?" He took a drag on his cigarette and turned to Frankie. "The tree you fell off?"

"Yeah."

Frankie would eventually find another way to sneak out. She didn't really have a choice if she wanted to hang out with Gerard and go to shows. Maybe she could get a ladder or a rope. Maybe she could tie her sheets like they did in movies. She could try this in a few weeks. As soon as her ankle was all better.

"I'm glad you're okay." Gerard smiled. "It's cool she didn't kill you and all. I was worried," he said and Frankie let out a tiny giggle. Gerard's smile widened and Frankie grinned back at him.

It was almost eerily quiet around the school that day. No marching bands, nothing remotely interesting to look at. Nothing to break the heavy silence that settled in after a minute. Frankie turned to look at Gerard and he seemed pretty busy biting off his cuticles and chewing on his fingernails.

Frankie leaned forward over the edge and stared at the emptiness below her feet. Then, she let her mind wander off for a bit, as she absently tugged at the bandages on her knees, pulling a corner before sticking it back into place.

She thought about the fight she had with her mom on Sunday night. It hadn't been too bad, actually. Frankie had seen worse.

It took her mom a while but she eventually gave Frankie _the_ lecture about boys and unprotected sex. She interrogated Frankie about Gerard for an hour or two, giving her a furious glare when Frankie announced Gerard was a senior. A senior who happened to be four years older than her -- although he was technically only three years older since his birthday wasn't due for another couple of weeks. Gerard was a senior who had invited her in his bedroom on more than one occasion. Frankie knew it was pretty much like telling her her daughter was having more sex than a five dollar whore but Frankie didn't really care. She actually liked messing with her mom's head. It wasn't like she didn't deserve it.

"She got really mad at me about the clothes too," Frankie said, finally breaking the silence. Gerard turned to her and gave her a puzzled look. "You should have seen her. She flipped her shit out when she saw me in your PJs," she explained and Gerard nodded.

"Yeah. They're pretty badass," Gerard said, noncommittal. "Some people don't get how fucking rad dinosaurs really are, I guess."

"They're in my locker," Frankie said. "All clean and shit if you want to grab them later."

Her mom had washed the pajama pants and ironed them and had insisted Frankie got them back to their owner. Frankie decided to keep the sweater though. It had escaped her mom cleaning frenzy and Frankie had stashed it at the bottom of her closet. Frankie just loved how it smelled. Maybe Gerard wouldn't notice it was gone.

Gerard took a long last drag on his cigarette and dropped it over the ledge. He turned to Frankie and blew the smoke, almost in her face, not that Frankie minded. It was actually kind of hot.

"You can keep them. The sweater too if it doesn't stink too much."

"You sure?" Frank asked, grinning so wide she thought her jaw was going to fall off.

Gerard nodded and crossed his legs under him, shifting closer to Frankie. "I haven't worn these PJs in ages. I'm not even sure they still fit. Anyway, they look better on you."

"Thanks."

Frankie felt herself blushing a little. She wasn't even sure why. Maybe it was because Gerard was sort of grinning back at her and he was pretty when he did that. She liked his smile. Actually, she liked pretty much everything about Gerard, even when he was all unshowered like today and when his hair smelled like old cheese and stale cigarette. She really liked him.

"You know, you could always stop sneaking out?" Gerard's fingers grabbed a corner of Frankie's skirt and tugged on it, rolling the fabric between his fingers. "You could walk out the front door like normal people do."

"You obviously don't know my mom," Frankie said with a sigh. "She doesn't like me going out with boys. She hates everyone who has a dick."

As soon as the word _dick_ had slipped out of her mouth, Frankie's stomach leaped and she was pretty sure her cheeks went bright red. Yes, Gerard had a dick. She had the feeling it was probably a nice dick, too. Thinking about his dick and how nice it was was definitely not a great idea though since it was right there, only a few inches from her elbow, an obvious bulge inside his pants.

"She hates you even more because she thinks we had sex," she said, quickly, trying to change the subject and utterly failing. It was probably even worse than talking about dicks. Now, everything Frankie could think about was sex. Sex with Gerard. Lots of it. _Fuck her stupid brain_.

Gerard looked up at her, frowning and let go of her skirt.

"She thinks you saw me naked. You know. With the pants thing," she explained, ducking her head, trying to hide her red cheeks from Gerard and hoping he wasn't going to ask for more details. "I didn't tell her we didn't do it though. Now she thinks you're an old perv and I'm a cheap slut."

Frankie wanted to crawl in a hole and die. Her mouth seemed to be no longer attached to her brain. She fucking hated everything.

"Wow," Gerard sighed. He shifted and swung his legs back over the ledge, pulling back from Frankie. "Fuck. No one ever called me _old_ before."

Frankie looked up at him, a hand covering her burning cheek. She wasn't sure if Gerard was being serious or if he was messing with her so she just shrugged. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry?"

He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow and Frankie wasn't sure why he was even apologizing to her. It wasn't his fault her mom was a fucking lunatic.

"My mom's a fucking lunatic," Frankie said out loud, finishing her cigarette and putting it out against the concrete. Gerard was watching her fingers, staring blankly at them as they crushed the filter. "Sometimes, I just fucking hate her guts," she confessed as the wind carried the cigarette butt off the ledge.

Frankie needed another cigarette. It was still early and she felt restless and needed something to do with her hands, anything as long as it didn't involve touching Gerard. She was considering bumming another smoke off him when he turned to her, shifting closer once more before asking, "Where's your dad?"

"He split," Frankie replied automatically.

"I'm sorry."

Gerard put a hand on Frankie's arm, his thumb stroking her elbow through the sleeve of her jacket, slow, careful, soothing.

"T's ok," she told him, swallowing the lump in her throat with difficulty. "I miss him a lot, though."

Gerard nodded, patting Frankie's arm and Frankie put her hand on top of his, stroking his fingers, locking them with hers.

They stayed like this for a while and then, Gerard licked his lips and opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something really fucking important. He closed it after a second, though and looked down at their hands and at Frankie's fingers, locked with his. He let out a heavy sigh when Frankie squeezed tighter, her thumb running up and down his wrist.

Frankie wasn't sure what the hell she was doing. Holding hands was probably not appropriate friend behavior but she wasn't exactly sure what she felt for Gerard was totally appropriate either. She let go of his hand after squeezing it one more time and Gerard pulled away slowly.

He put his hand in his lap, as if he didn't know what to do with it anymore and shifted nervously next to Frankie.

Frankie wasn't wearing her Snoopy watch that day (she had forgotten it on her nightstand along with her phone and her Geometry homework, shit) but she could tell it was almost time to go back downstairs, the way her stomach growled loudly. Frankie wished it wasn't already over. Waiting another week to be with Gerard would be sheer torture but sneaking out in the middle of the night to see him and possibly make out with him was out of the table.

"Frankie?"

Gerard's voice was a little high pitched, a little nasal.

"Listen. About the..." Gerard started, looking like he was struggling to find his words. "Thing. The thing that happened-"

"The thing?"

Frankie already knew what the thing was but she had hoped Gerard would actually call it something else than a _thing_. Gerard thought it was just a _thing_. Nothing important, then. Nothing worth mentioning.

Gerard scrambled back up on his feet and wiped some stray ashes off his pants. He extended a hand to Frankie, reaching out to grab her wrist and helped her up.

Frankie limped, hopping on her left foot and waited for Gerard to wrap his arm around her waist. When he finally did, Frankie shuddered. His fingers closed around her waist after rubbing against her hip, lifting her skirt just a little on their way up.

"So, yeah. The thing in my room," Gerard said as they walked downstairs, very slowly, Frankie clinging tight to Gerard, her arm around his neck, her hand resting on his shoulder and the other on the handrail.

"You know? Hmm," Gerard mumbled, stopping halfway down the stairs, the hand on Frankie's waist squeezing ever so slightly.

"Yeah. Don't worry about it," Frankie said, letting go of the railing and waving her hand dismissively. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep a somewhat composed face though, something that wouldn't betray how fucking hurt she was. "I get it."

The truth was, she didn't get it. Gerard obviously didn't want them to be anything more than friends but he was really giving her mixed signals with all the touching, the hand holding, the way he sometimes looked at her like she was the most fascinating thing he ever saw. He probably liked watching her from a strictly artistic point of view though and Frankie's stupid brain was just twisting everything.

Maybe friends were always supposed to touch like this. After all, she did touch Bob and Alicia all the time. Not the same way but she did touch them. Although, her stomach never did back flips when she caught Bob looking at her or when Alicia held her hand and squeezed it tight. That was strictly a Gerard thing.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Frankie pushed the door open and turned to Gerard.

He looked a little confused, maybe, as his arm slid off Frankie's waist, excruciatingly slow. Frankie let go off him too and leaned against a row of lockers behind her, one of the padlocks digging into her back.

She quickly scanned the hallway, temporarily looking away from Gerard who seemed a little flushed and sweaty.

Bob wasn't anywhere in sight. She could always skip over to her locker and get her stupid fucking crutches.

Frankie took a deep breath and swallowed her saliva. Everything sounded so loud in the quiet of the hallway. Even Gerard's breathing sounded heavy and shoddy. It was probably because of the forced exercise. Carrying a fat ass like Frankie down a flight of stairs had to be exhausting.

Gerard bit the corner of his bottom lip and put a hand on Frankie's shoulder. "So, I guess...OK."

Then, he took a couple of steps back, his hand leaving Frankie's shoulder.

Frankie wasn't sure what Gerard really meant by 'OK' so she just repeated, "OK," and that was it. Gerard walked away without even turning once to look at her and Frankie stood there in the empty hallway until the bell rang and until Bob and Alicia went to find her. The _thing_ was officially dead and buried.

  
*

  
"He's a big jerk," Alicia announced as she jumped on top of the counter and sat behind Frankie, pulling her closer and wrapping her arms and legs around Frankie like some kind of weird, land octopus with only four arms (A quadropus?). She hugged Frankie like this for a little while, really tight, her chin hooked over Frankie's shoulder, her hair tickling Frankie's cheek and a non-stop stream of insults flowing out of her mouth. "A jerk, jerkwad, jerkodick, jerkfaced jerk."

Frankie wasn't supposed to be at the record store. Not today, not ever. She was supposed to go straight home after school like her mom had told her to but it wasn't like her mom was going to notice anyway. She was working late every day this week which was kind of awesome. She had to pick up an extra shift at work since there were some unexpected medical bills to pay. Apparently, she was never going to let Frankie off the hook for this one.

Unsurprisingly, Frankie was grounded for the rest of her natural life and probably even beyond that in case of a zombie apocalypse. Her mom had also forbidden her to hang around boys, even at school, even Bob. Apparently, they were all little shits who were after one thing : Frankie's _precious flower_. Those were her actual words. Sometimes, her mom was the world's biggest lamer. Frankie couldn't understand how they were even related. Hopefully, the lame gene had skipped a generation. Thank fuck, Frankie was more like her dad anyway.

"He's not a jerk," Frankie said as soon as Alicia released her from the hug. Frankie didn't pull away though. She hooked her elbows around Alicia's thighs and Alicia put her chin on top of her head.

"An asshole then?" Alicia provided unhelpfully as she started petting Frankie's hair, parting it and combing it carefully with her fingers.

Frankie tilted her head back obediently and closed her eyes.

"I'm the asshole here," Frankie mumbled before opening her eyes again and momentarily pulling away from Alicia's fingers to look up at her over her shoulder. "He needs a friend and I'm being all selfish and shit," Frankie added with a deep, pathetic sigh.

"Because you want to touch his dick?" Alicia asked as she resumed her braiding.

Frankie didn't even want to dignify this with an answer.

"That's not selfish," Alicia said, obviously taking Frankie's silence for a yes. "That's perfectly normal, baby. That's the way boys and girls have been raised to play."

Bob shot a cynical glare at Alicia from across the store where he was pretending to do inventory or something boring like that when what he really did was to keep an eye on the customers and make sure they didn't steal anything on his watch. Frankie often wondered how Bob ended up in retail when he clearly hated everyone.

Alicia laughed and pulled on Frankie's hair a little. "I bet he's fucking hung, too," she teased, snapping her hips forward a couple of times against Frankie, humping her back while making obscene noises.

"Shut up." Frankie elbowed her in the stomach and Alicia squirmed away from her, letting go of Frankie's half braided hair. It probably looked stupid now.

Frankie limped away from Alicia and tried to jump up next to her, almost face-planting as her hands slipped on the magazines splayed all over the counter. Back issues of Alternative Press, Rolling Stones, Modern Drummer. Nothing remotely interesting. Frankie was more of a Fangoria, Weird New Jersey and Punk Rock Confidential kind of girl anyway. Frankie pushed them aside unceremoniously, the covers crumpling as she shoved the magazines against the cash register.

"What?" Alicia asked, grabbing Frankie's arm and trying to help her up, sending a Metal Hammer flying off the counter, tossing it over her shoulder after shooting a quick glance at Bob and smirking at him.

Frankie managed to lever herself up after a couple of tries and shifted next to Alicia. They knocked their feet together, dangling them off the counter in rhythm with the faint music that came from the shitty radio in the reserve. It sounded like a Madonna song and Frankie immediately thought about Gerard.

"Have you ever seen him in tight pants? Holy shit," Alicia said just as Bob walked up to the counter with a stack of CDs. Her voice was loud. Frankie was pretty sure she was doing this on purpose to piss off Bob and it seemed to be working, judging by the way his fingers clenched around the CDs, almost hard enough to break them in half.

"Shut the fuck up, you big nympho," Frankie said, blushing before pushing Alicia over the edge and trying to get her to fall on her skanky ass.

Frankie had seen Gerard in tight pants and ok, maybe they made his junk a little more noticeable but Frankie wasn't interested in his junk. Well, she was but Gerard had other things going for him. He was fucking smart about the most random things and he drew zombies like no one else. The fact that he was also hot was just an added bonus.

"You should attempt an accidental crotch grabbing," Alicia said and Frankie shoved her elbow in her ribs. Alicia barely moved. She just gave Frankie a huge grin before adding, "Just to feel how big he is."

"Yeah, shut up," Bob grunted as he dropped a stack of Green Day CDs behind Frankie. Bob always had a perfect timing.

There were hardly any customers that afternoon. Just a group of pimple-faced boys standing by the Grunge section, staring at Alicia as if they had never seen a girl before and chuckling like some Beavis and Buttheads wannabes. One of them, a tiny thing with a giant pair of glasses and freckles covering his entire face was staring at Frankie though.

Frankie pretended she didn't notice he was staring until she looked down and realized her skirt was way up her thighs and that the boy was probably ogling at her granny panties.

Frankie pulled her skirt down and stuck her tongue out to the little freckled pervert. His face turned red and he trudged back to his friends, hiding behind them and picking up records at random.

Frankie giggled and Alicia giggled too although she probably had no idea what it was about.

"What did I miss?" Bob asked as he handed Frankie one of the records. It was the new Green Day album.

Frankie grabbed her bag on the counter and slipped the CD inside. Free music was one of the many advantages of having a Bob Bryar in her life.

"I dunno," Alicia shrugged and blew a raspberry at the boys who were still staring at her. One of them flipped her the bird and unfortunately for him, Bob saw him.

Bob circled the counter and walked up to the kid. He kicked his ass out of the store in no time and the kid was quickly followed by his friends as they scurried after him, glaring at Bob.

The tiny freckled pervert was the last one to walk out. He turned to Frankie and smiled at her, all timid and rosy cheeked and it was sort of sweet so Frankie waved him goodbye.

The poor thing almost walked right into Bob and Alicia snorted, the kid turned bright red as he rushed out the door.

"I can't believe I'm missing fucking Green Day," Frankie whined as she tried to comb the tangled up mess of her hair.

"They'll come back. Don't worry," Alicia said, helping Frankie undo her braids. "Maybe next time you could tell your mom you're sleeping at my place or something. I could braid your hair for real and paint your fucking toe nails for credibility's sake."

Bob leaned against the counter and started flipping through one of the magazines, distractedly.

"Fuck my mom, guys, seriously," Frankie sighed and Bob patted her thigh a couple of times.

"Bob could do that. Right, Bob? You'd do Linda Iero to help out a friend in need." Alicia lay down across Frankie's lap and nudged Bob. "Dependable Bob."

Bob didn't say much besides a low "fuck" accompanied by a groan. He shook Alicia's hand off and disappeared in the reserve. He looked really pissed off at her and Frankie wasn't sure it was because of the teasing. Frankie had probably missed the latest development in the Alicia/Bob/Mikey Way love triangle.

"That's fucking gross," Frankie protested, trying to push Alicia out of her lap.

"Your hair is gross," Alicia said, giggling as she wriggled her fingers and twisted them in Frankie's hair.

Frankie slapped Alicia's hand away and giggled. "Your face is gross."

  
*

  
A week later, Frankie was rummaging through her mom's stuff to find a pair of black shoes to go with her black 'church' dress, the one that made her butt look about normal sized. Her own shoes were all dirty or worn out or not mother approved or a combination of the three and Frankie definitely couldn't go to her grandma Lillian's barefoot or in her pink Chucks. Her mom's feet were tiny like hers so there was probably something she could borrow without even asking her. Maybe she wouldn't mind. She was trying to look nice, after all.

The postcard was hidden in one of the shoe boxes with a brand new pair of boots her mom bought ages ago but never wore. She always said they made her look too whorish. Frankie considered trying them on for a bit, just to piss off her mom but they were probably too tight for her. Especially since Frankie was still sporting a thin layer of bandages around her ankle.

The card had been ripped apart and taped back together, kind of slanted. Frankie picked it up and looked at the picture curiously. It was one of these stupid birthday cards with kittens on it and an equally stupid slogan that was supposed to be cute and funny but wasn't. Frankie flipped it over to read what was on the back and her fingers clenched around it when she saw the name and the address, scribbled in her dad's shitty handwriting.

She checked the post mark on the stamp and realized her dad had sent it only a couple of weeks ago. It wasn't her mom's birthday and it wasn't hers either so she figured he had just picked a card at random.

It didn't say much. Just one sentence written in black ink. _Hope everything's alright._

Frankie ran her finger along the ragged edge of the postcard and stared at the words for a few seconds until she heard her mom calling for her from downstairs.

"Frankie? Francesca?"

As usual, she sounded pissed off.

"I'm coming," Frankie replied, closing the box and folding the postcard neatly before slipping it in the pocket of her jacket.

"You better get your ass downstairs now before I drag it down myself," her mom yelled, quite uselessly and Frankie picked a pair of shoes at random before closing the dresser.

"I said I was fucking coming," Frankie muttered, grinding her teeth and stepping out of the room, slamming the door a little harder than she intended to.

She limped a little as she climbed down the stairs even though her ankle was much better. Pretending she was still in pain seemed to work like a charm on her mom; it helped Frankie get out of doing things she didn't want to do. Everything but boring family gatherings.

  
*

  
On Monday, Frankie temporarily abandoned her lunch spot, partly because she needed to talk to Gerard and partly because Alicia was being an obnoxious and loud jerk, teasing her restlessly about the kiss. Frankie was pretty sure there were already rumors floating around the school about Gerard and her having weirdo sex in the backseat of his car or something stupid like that. Alicia wasn't good at keeping secrets, but Frankie couldn't be mad at her because she was pretty lousy at keeping secrets herself.

Mikey Way was with them once again. He was having lunch with them almost every day now. Frankie didn't mind because she liked him. He was almost like his brother about some things; he was a dork and a comic book geek, he liked D&D and was in his brother's club or whatever that thing was. He didn't talk a lot though but when he did, it was to say something completely hilarious. He didn't smile too much. It was as if his face was stuck in a permanent blank state. The only times Frankie saw him smile was when Alicia was sitting close to him or when she was touching him. They were just that obvious. Bob seemed to warm up to him after a few days. It had been a slow process but Mikey was someone you couldn't hate. It would have been like hating on unicorns and rainbows and puppies. It just didn't make sense.

Frankie was trying to ignore Alicia and Bob who were making kissy faces at her when she dropped next to Gerard and sat down Indian-style, her right knee poking Gerard's by accident. It felt good, her naked skin rubbing over the fabric of Gerard's pants, just for a second.

Frankie took a deep breath. She could do this. She could be his friend. She could sit down next to him and not watch his mouth or think about his lips or how he kissed. She could definitely do this without looking at his crotch once even though his pants sort of looked tighter than usual.

"G?"

Gerard was staring down into his box of Cheez-its as if it held the answer to life itself. He didn't look up from it when he said, "Frankie."

Frankie bit her bottom lip and poked Gerard with her knee again. This time, it was deliberate and Frankie left her knee right where it was. Gerard didn't seem to mind though. He just picked a handful of Cheez-its and shoved it in his mouth.

"Could you take me somewhere today?"

"Sure," Gerard mumbled through his mouthful of crackers, chewing loudly and spraying tiny crumbs onto his lap. His eyes strayed from his lunch and fell on Frankie's knee. He bit the corner of his bottom lip and hastily turned back to his box of Cheez-its.

Frankie wasn't sure he had really heard her so she poked him again, a little harder. "After school?"

"Sure."

He finally looked up and poked Frankie back, gently, unusually playful. He even added a smile, lopsided and sweet, the kind that made Frankie weak in the knees.

"To see my dad?" Frankie added after a couple of seconds, trying to ignore Gerard's knee as it rubbed up against her leg. It looked like he wasn't even doing it on purpose. His knee was just moving up and down her thigh at a slow rhythm, pushing past the hem of her skirt. He needed to stop now or Frankie was going to fail at the friend thing spectacularly by shoving her hands down Gerard's pants and her tongue down his throat.

"Of course. I'll drive you," he said and his knee stopped moving. _Thank fuck._ "Cheez-its?" he offered Frankie, putting the box in her lap and looking all earnest and shit.

"Fuck yeah."

Frankie picked up a handful of Cheez-its and smiled at Gerard as a 'thank you'.

She was biting off a corner of one of the crackers when she decided it would be nice to stick around longer. Her other friends were busy being fucking ridiculous -- Alicia was lying across Bob and Mikey's laps -- and Gerard was always great company when he wasn't driving Frankie insane by touching her or kissing her.

Gerard's lunch spot was actually nice, quiet and as far away as possible from the cafeteria and the dickwads populating it. She noticed a small group of potheads a few feet away from them, shielded from the rest of the world by the bleachers but they didn't seem to mind her or Gerard.

"Why haven't we done this before?" Frankie asked as she passed the box of Cheez-its back to Gerard. He raised an eyebrow and Frankie added, "You know, lunch."

"I wasn't sure you wanted to hang out with me," Gerard said, his voice so low it was barely audible.

"What?" Frankie's voice was way louder and squeaky than she expected and a few people turned to her.

Gerard ducked his head.

"In front of the whole school," he explained and Frankie frowned at him. "Some people don't really like being spotted with the resident weirdo and apparently, that's what I am."

That was probably one of the most ridiculous pile of bullshit anyone had ever served Frankie. If she could help it, she would spend every minute of every day with Gerard. She didn't care about the dickwads around school saying shit about them.

"You're such an idiot, dude," Frankie said with a sigh, shaking her head and patting Gerard's knee; twice, nothing too lingering. "Such a fucking idiot."

"Thanks. I try," he said, deadpan.

He passed his Cheez-its back to Frankie and she removed her hand from his knee.

"Maybe we could do this again tomorrow?" she proposed, hopeful.

"Your friends are going to miss you."

Frankie shrugged and looked across the yard at her friends. Mikey was now splayed on the lawn with his head in Alicia's lap. Alicia was looking at Frankie and making weird hand gestures, probably trying to tell Frankie to grab Gerard's junk or something. Frankie wasn't entirely sure. This was kind of ridiculous and Frankie giggled in spite of herself.

When she turned back to Gerard, he was looking at her, frowning and tugging on the sleeves of his jacket.

"I'm all yours," she told him as she put the box of Cheez-its in the tiny space left between them.

  
*

  
Gerard's car was parked along the sidewalk in front of the school, kind of askew, one of the wheels riding the curb. It was as dirty as ever, the sunlight revealing a few dents Frankie had never noticed before on the door panel on the passenger side and on the bumper that held in place with duct tape. She knocked on the window because it looked like the door was locked and Gerard leaned over to open it for her.

"Hey," Gerard said as he moved back to his seat and put on his seat belt.

Frankie slid in the passenger seat and leaned closer to Gerard to give him a half hug. "Hi," she said as she squeezed his shoulder before settling back into her seat and fastening her seat-belt. "Thanks for doing this."

"Does your mom know what we're doing?" Gerard asked as he turned the key in the ignition. The car started at the first try and Gerard let out a sigh of relief before turning to Frankie. "Does she know about this?" he asked again.

"Of course not, stupid. She would flip her shit. Besides, she hates you. She thinks you want to pop my cherry in the backseat of your crappy car." Frankie let out a nervous laugh as she shot a glance at the empty backseat. It looked like someone had mistaken it for a fucking dumpster with all the empty bottles of beer and Mountain Dew and the empty bags of Cheetos. This was definitely not the best place to get it on. Not that there was any chance of 'it' happening.

Frankie turned back to Gerard and noticed how worried he looked now, his fingers clenched around the wheel. "How about your dad? Does he know we're coming?"

"Not exactly."

Gerard sighed once more before pulling away from the curb, the car bouncing off the sidewalk and the suspensions squeaking in protest.

The drive to Mahwah was far from boring even though Frankie spent it mostly with her eyes on the road, watching the streets signs and the buildings pass by her window, scared shitless and excited at the same time. Gerard talked to her about cool things, probably because he noticed how nervous she was. They talked about The Doom Patrol, The Misfits, Bill Murray and all the awesome movies he did with Harold Ramis.

"We need to have a Bill Murray marathon at some point," Gerard announced with a huge grin and Frankie bounced up in her seat, delighted by the prospect of spending a few hours with Gerard, sitting next to him, watching Ghostbusters, Caddyshack and Groundhog Day.

"When you can sneak out of your room again," Gerard added as an afterthought and Frankie noticed his smile was gone.

  
*

  
Gerard parked across the street from the apartment building where Frankie's dad was supposed to live now. It looked pretty crabby from the outside; an old and dingy building in a lousy neighborhood and Frankie hesitated for a moment before stepping out of the car, pulling her skirt down to her knees and double checking the postcard to make sure she had the right place.

She crossed the street and Gerard followed her closely, a hand pressed against her back, not really pushing her or anything. It was more like a light touch, something reassuring.

He let go of her when they reached the bottom of the stairs and Frankie stood there for a second before climbing up slowly, shooting glances at Gerard over her shoulder, just to make sure he was still there, that he wasn't going to leave without her. She turned around reaching the top and Gerard was there, watching her, smiling. Frankie was a little too nervous to smile so she quickly turned back to the imposing double door in front of her, the folded postcard clenched in her fist.

His name was there at the top of the intercom, a sticker that read 'Iero'. No first name. It was his handwriting though so there wasn't really any doubt it was her dad's place.

Frankie forced her hand to reach up and pressed the button, taking deep breaths and trying not to get a panic attack. It was just her dad. He was going to hug her and kiss her forehead and listen to her while she talked about her woes. Maybe she could tell him about Gerard too.

The intercom didn't even give her static; only silence.

Frankie waited and looked at the other names on the intercom, distractingly, thinking about ringing up one of his neighbors. It was still early and maybe her dad wasn't back from work yet. Maybe she could wait inside and sit outside his door until he got back.

She tried the intercom one more time, after maybe a minute, maybe less. She waited some more, staring at the intercom as if it would help in conjuring up her dad's voice.

After a third unsuccessful try, Frankie turned from the hopelessly quiet intercom and looked at Gerard. He was still standing at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the railing, his hair falling over his face. He was staring at his feet, an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips.

"He's not here," Frankie said as she climbed down the stairs, slowly making her way back to Gerard. "He's probably still at work. Shit."

Gerard looked up and pushed his hair away from his face. He pulled the cigarette away from his lips and gave Frankie a small smile. "It's ok, you know. I can wait with you."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I didn't have shit to do anyway. Might as well be here."

"Thanks, Gerard."

Frankie sat down on the steps, pulling her skirt down an inch. Maybe she should have added something like _you don't have to wait for me_ , just to be polite but she didn't want Gerard to go away.

Gerard joined Frankie on the stairs, sitting down next to her, kind of really close to her, the cigarette rolling between his fingers.

"Any time," he said with a smile and he tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear. He was so fucking pretty.

"No," she managed to utter when Gerard put the cigarette back in his pack of Marlboro Light. "I mean, thanks for everything."

Gerard's smile turned into a full on grin and then, he grabbed Frankie's hand and pulled it onto his lap. "It's okay, you know."

He opened Frankie's clenched fist and ran his fingers on her hand, up to the tip of her fingers and down to her wrist, stroking gently, lingering in middle for an instant before dragging his fingernails slowly across her palm.

Frankie held back a moan, biting hard on her bottom lip, almost breaking skin. Gerard didn't seem to notice and kept his slow and absent-minded exploration of Frankie's skin.

"How's the triptych?" Frankie asked, quickly as she jerked back a little, her arm slipping away from Gerard's lap only by a couple of inches.

Gerard let out a heavy sigh as he pulled Frankie's hand back where it was and Frankie thought that maybe, he wasn't in the mood to talk. Maybe he was more in the mood to stroke her to death.

When he finally spoke again, Frankie tried to focus on his voice and not on his fingers as they trailed down Frankie's wrist, soft, slow and persistent.

"I don't know if I adore it or if I fucking hate it so much I want to tear it up to pieces and torch it," he said, suddenly very serious, looking up from Frankie's hand and giving her this really intent stare that made her stomach leap. She was so screwed.

"Did you finish it?" She tried to keep her voice from shaking but it was pretty useless at this point. She was going to explode or lose her mind if Gerard didn't stop touching her.

Gerard's mouth twisted and he looked down at Frankie's arm splayed across his lap, his thumb tracing circles against the back of Frankie's hand. "I'm not sure. It's more complicated than that, I think."

He kept stroking her hand like this for a little while, as if it wasn't a big deal, as if it wasn't driving Frankie insane with the need to touch him back. She craved more. She desperately wanted to climb onto his lap and kiss him until they both gasped for air. She wanted to kiss every inch of his skin and tangle herself up in him.

Frankie shut her eyes and enjoyed the feel of Gerard's soft touch on her hot skin, her heart beating too fast, too loud. She was going to die right here, on the steps of some crappy building in some crappy town. She was going to die from wanting Gerard too much.

"Did you end up putting Death in it?" she asked, almost gasping as she opened her eyes again. She turned to Gerard and looked at his pretty face bathed in the last rays of sunlight. Her dad was going to come home any time now and he was going to rescue her from Gerard's clever fingers.

"Oh, the outlines?" He smiled and let go of Frankie's hand for a second, just long enough to pull her other hand onto his lap. Frankie wanted to scream or moan or hump the shit out of Gerard. Something shameful and crazy and totally not appropriate.

"They were meant to stay outlines. Like, you know, Death is something that's always here even though it's mostly a ghost," Gerard explained, his fingers now tightly laced with Frankie's and a half smile on his face. "It's just waiting in the background of everyone's life but you can't really see it. I think that's what I was going for."

"Yeah." Frankie nodded, tentatively pulling her hands, trying to get Gerard to let go.

He didn't though and held on to her even tighter. Then, he started stroking her again with his thumbs, the pads running along her knuckles, tracing curves and circles and this was too much, the last straw, the whatever. _Fuckfuckfuck_. Frankie bit her lip and took a deep breath.

"So, this isn't gonna work for me, Gerard," she said on exhale and it felt like ripping off a band-aid. It was a little painful but quick and it had to be done. Frankie couldn't do this anymore. She couldn't be _just_ his friend.

"What?"

His shoulders dropped, his fingers stopped moving and his smile vanished completely.

"Fuck this shit." Frankie pulled Gerard closer and kissed him, hard and eager.

For a few seconds, Gerard didn't kiss her back. He just stayed still while Frankie pushed her lips against his, her hands clasping at his.

When Frankie licked at his pursed lips, Gerard opened his mouth and shoved his tongue inside Frankie's mouth, fucking finally, kissing her thoroughly and kind of sloppily too. It felt good, even more intense than the first time they did this. The fireworks and the angels were still missing but Frankie didn't need them anyway. Not when she had Gerard's tongue exploring her mouth, licking at her tongue and making these really tiny noises, high pitched moans, desperate and kind of really hot too.

Gerard let go of Frankie's hands and pulled her closer, his hands tugging at her shirt, twisting in her hair, stroking the base of her neck. He hummed and moaned into Frankie's mouth as if he was trying to say something. It was impossible for him to say anything though since his tongue was still in Frankie's mouth and since Frankie was sucking on it.

Frankie realized her hands were hanging limp in Gerard's lap and decided to put them to use, grabbing Gerard's knees, clinging to anything she could. As soon as her fingers closed around his thighs, stroking him lazily through the fabric of his pants, Gerard shuddered and broke the kiss.

"Frankie," he gasped, out of breath, his lips still pressed against Frankie's. "We shouldn't... not here. My car..."

Frankie replied by planting small kisses everywhere on Gerard's mouth, noisy pecks on his spit slick lips.

"FrankieFrankie." Gerard was repeating her name over and over again, almost chanting it in rhythm with his fingers as they caressed Frankie's neck and the small of her back. Frankie thought that her name in Gerard's mouth was the sexiest thing she had ever heard. It sounded like porno, whatever porno sounded like.

She was about to try the tongue thing again, her hands moving up and down Gerard's thighs when she heard footsteps behind her. Someone cleared their throat quite noisily and Frankie planted one last kiss on Gerard's lips -- one for the road -- before pulling away from him and turning to look at whoever was standing there.

Her dad had lost some weight. He looked tired and small. His clothes were a little wrinkled. He squinted behind his glasses, probably because he wasn't expecting to see Frankie and frowned.

"Frankie?"

"Hi, dad," Frankie almost squeaked, letting go of Gerard's thighs and jumping to her feet. "This is Gerard," she said before smoothing out her skirt and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She took Gerard's hand, his palm warm and sweaty against hers.

This was kind of embarrassing and kind of not at all at the same time. Her dad wasn't going to freak out on her because she was making out with a boy. He wasn't like her mom. He was going to smile and shake Gerard's hand and everything was going to be alright.

"Nice to meet you, sir." Gerard looked so uncomfortable as he got up and reached out to shake her dad's hand.

"Likewise."

The handshake was very brief and Frankie's dad turned back to her, looking a little confused if anything. "What are you doing here?" he asked, still not smiling. He was probably just worried.

"I'll be in the car," Gerard said, softly, stroking Frankie's hand with his thumb before letting it go and climbing down the stairs.

"Thanks, Gerard."

Frankie turned back to her dad and climbed up the stairs after him, watching as he dug up his keys from his pockets and unlocked the heavy looking door.

The building didn't look any better from the inside. The elevator didn't work and there was a strong smell of stale smoke and cooking. It stunk pretty bad of fried fish or something equally as gross.

Frankie followed her dad across the lobby, clasping her hands together.

"Is he your boyfriend?" her dad asked as they started climbing up the narrow stairs, his feet dragging a little with every step.

"I think so. I don't know."

It wasn't like they had time to discuss it. Maybe they were still friends. The kind of friends who happened to kiss and grope. Frankie could get behind that.

"He seems like a good kid. Polite."

"He really is," Frankie said with a dreamy sigh and her dad chuckled. The sigh was more embarrassing than being caught sucking face with Gerard.

Her dad's apartment was on the third floor, at the end of a poorly lit corridor with walls painted in a dark shade of orange. The carpet looked orange too, and dirty. The smell was a little better up here. Frankie watched as her dad unlocked the door, two or three bolts. The neighborhood must have sucked pretty bad.

"So, what did you need?" her dad asked when he finally pushed the door open and walked inside his apartment.

It was ridiculously small. There were unpacked boxes of clothes piled up in a corner and not a lot of furniture apart from a brand new leather armchair, a lamp without a shade and a tiny table with a TV set against the opposite wall. There was only one window, a small square high up on the wall barely giving any light. Frankie stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

Her dad threw his jacket on the back of the armchair and kicked off his shoes, discarding them in the middle of the living room.

Frankie picked them up carefully and set them next to the chair. "I wanted to see you."

"You're seeing me, sweetie," he said just as he walked out of the room. There was the sound of a door opening, bottles clinking together, plastic bag tearing.

"I want to live with you, dad," Frankie announced when he reappeared from the kitchen with a bottle of Bud, a bag of Funyuns and a glass of water.

"Don't be silly," he said, finally looking at her and handing her the water. "I live in a dump and I don't have enough time or money to take care of a 15 year old."

He turned the TV on and sat down on the armchair, unscrewing the bottle cap and setting it on the armrest. He turned his attention to the TV and took a sip on his beer.

"I can take care of myself," Frankie said, picking up the bottle cap and sitting down on the armrest. "I'm not a kid anymore, dad. I'll be 16 in a few months." She put the glass of water down on the floor and slipped her hand in the bag of Funyuns. She picked up a handful, inspecting them for a second before dropping the rings into her mouth one by one.

"Oh really? What happened to your ankle then? Your mom told me you hurt it," her dad said, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close. "Doing some stunts again, are we?" he asked, patting her hip gently and looking up at her.

Frankie put her head on his shoulder and shifted closer. She had missed him so much.

"I sprained it," she said, burying her face in the crook of his neck for a bit. He smelled like tobacco and the varnish he used at work to polish guitars. He also smelled like sweat with just a hint of Old Spice. He smelled like home.

"How did that happen anyway?" he asked and Frankie pulled away.

"Oh, you know," she replied, waving her hands. "Same old shit. Mom should invest in a ladder."

Her dad let go of her waist and dug into the bag of Funyuns. He chewed loudly for a while and stared at the TV where some jackass was trying to solve a ridiculously simple puzzle on the Wheel Of Fortune.

"What a jackass," Frankie commented when the guy got it wrong and her dad turned back to her.

"Listen, sweetie. I don't have time for this right now," he said with a sigh. "You know? Family stuff. I work crazy hours and I can barely afford to put food on the table for myself," he added before taking a swig on his beer. "I really think you should be with your mom."

"No," she replied, firmly. "I'm not going back."

Frankie pulled away from her dad and he pushed her further, forcing her to stand up as he reclaimed the armrest.

"Call your boyfriend and tell him to drive you home," he said, his voice a little firmer than usual. "I don't want your mom to worry. You know how she is."

"I don't give a fuck about her," Frankie said, kicking at the chair and pounding her fists against her thighs. "I hate her fucking guts. I wish she was fucking dead," she spat out, grinding her teeth and kicking at the chair once more. Everything was her mom's fault, everything that was wrong with her life. She had ruined everything. She had made her dad leave and she was trying to take Gerard away from her too.

Frankie was expecting the furious glare her dad gave her. After all, she had been pushing his buttons on purpose to get his attention, to get him to react. She wasn't really expecting him to jump out of his armchair though, the bag of Funyuns spilling onto the floor and raise a menacing hand at her. He didn't hit her though. He never would have. His hand froze up mid-air and he looked down at Frankie, his nostrils flaring and his eyes really big behind his glasses. His face was a little more red than usual and his fingers clenched tight around his beer.

"You little shit," he said, his voice low and his hand dropping against his side. "I can't believe this." He sounded calmer now as he shook his head, his eyes still a little wild as he grabbed Frankie's arm. "Get out of my house now before I do something I regret," he hissed, dragging her towards the door, his fingers latched onto her wrist.

"Dad. No." Frankie managed to break free and stood there in front of the door. "I'm sorry but you don't understand. You're not the one living with her. She made you leave. She was a bitch to you and she made you leave."

Frankie's dad shook his head and reached behind her to open the door. He pushed her, not too harshly and Frankie found herself back into the stinky orange hallway.

"You better go back and apologize to your mom for being a bitch to her." He didn't sound too angry but his tone was firm. There was also a hint of sadness and disappointment in his voice. He was giving her this disapproving stare that was usually more of a mom thing and Frankie couldn't take it.

"Fuck you. Fuck you both," Frankie yelled as she made her way down the corridor. She heard the door slamming behind her and Frankie was just so frustrated and angry at her idiot parents that she started crying. She didn't want to. She tried not to. She clenched her fist so hard her nails dug into her palms, almost hard enough to break skin. By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, Frankie was sniffling and wiping her wet cheeks with her sleeves. Her vision was blurred by the tears, droplets caught in her eyelashes.

She struggled with the door for a minute, unable to get it to open, kicking it in frustration. Then, she noticed a tiny button on the side and pressed it, feeling stupid for not seeing it right away and the door opened with a buzz.

Gerard was waiting for her, sat at the bottom of the stairs, biting on his fingernails and smoking a cigarette.

When Frankie walked out of the building, he turned to her and got up quickly.

Frankie rushed down the stairs and into his arms. She watched him as he flicked his cigarette across the sidewalk and blew the smoke towards the sky. Then, he took Frankie's face between his hands.

"Are you okay?" he asked, a tiny crease on his forehead. He wiped her tears away with his thumbs before wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug.

"No. I don't think so."

It was useless to pretend everything was okay when nothing was. She buried her face against Gerard's chest before hooking her chin on his shoulder and hugged him back. He smelled good and he was warm and Frankie was pretty sure he was the only thing she ever wanted.

He planted a kiss on the shell of her ear and pulled away, kissing the top of her head tenderly. He stared into her eyes before taking Frankie's hand and walking her back to the car without another word.

"Where do you want to go?" he finally asked her when they were both back in the safety of his tiny beat-up car.

"I-" Frankie whispered as she picked at the fabric of her seat. "I think I want to go home now."

Gerard took her hand and kissed her knuckles before letting go. "Ok."

He started the car and reached for his seat-belt, his eyes never leaving Frankie's.

"I want to go home with you," Frankie whispered. She felt something stirring in the pit of her stomach, like some kind of animal was trapped in there.

Gerard looked a little disconcerted and he let go of his seat-belt. He shifted on his seat and Frankie's grabbed his hand as it fell onto his lap.

"Can I sleep at your house tonight?" Frankie asked, her fingers closing around Gerard's. "Please?"

She didn't want to go back to her mom's. She couldn't go back there and get yet another lecture, get in another fight she probably wouldn't win anyway. Frankie wanted to be with Gerard all the time and snuggle up in bed with him. She needed to feel him close, to breathe in his smell.

He licked his lips and moved closer to Frankie. "Yeah, of course."

"I'm tiny. I can probably fit in a corner of your couch," Frankie slurred and Gerard kissed her damp cheeks.

"You won't have to sleep on the couch," he whispered against her burning skin.

Then, they were kissing again. At first Gerard was cautious as he pulled away every other second, looking at Frankie's mouth and running his fingers over her lips as if it was the first time he touched her. He kissed her cheeks and her eyelids too, slow and gentle.

Frankie closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers tangled up in his hair.

After what seemed a fucking eternity, Gerard started kissing Frankie a little harder, working her lips open with his tongue.

Things started to heat up quickly after that as Gerard stroked Frankie's sides, his fingers more and more urgent, lifting up her shirt and running up and down her spine.

If Frankie had been standing, she would have fell on her ass by now the way her knees were shaking, the way her entire body was trembling against Gerard's.

Every time they pulled apart, Frankie panted, helpless, her fingers tugging at Gerard's hair, lightly, wanting more.

Then, Gerard was moaning into her mouth again, his tongue dancing around hers, sloppy, mind-blowing and Frankie was starting to wonder if they were going to have sex right here, in the fucking middle of Mahwah, just across the street from her dad's place. The backseat was still looking pretty disgusting for this kind of activity but Frankie wasn't going to be too picky if Gerard didn't stop sliding a hand under the hem of her skirt.

He pulled away once again though, his eyes shut and his breath shaky and Frankie realized it was already night outside. She had no idea how that even happened. She had lost track of time somehow, too busy making out with Gerard to notice that the sun was gone.

She went for another quick kiss, pressing her lips on Gerard's before smearing them down his neck, her tongue licking a strip up to his ear and under his chin, tasting the salt of his sweat.

Gerard tensed, his hips snapping once, as if it was out of his control and Frankie wanted to climb onto his lap, straddle him and dry hump the fuck out of him and have him come his brains out. As soon as she moved closer to set her plan in motion, though, her knee hit the gear shift, hard and she scowled in pain, pulling away from Gerard and her lips leaving a wet trail on his neck.

"What?" he asked breathlessly, his eyes blinking open.

"My knee. Fuck."

Frankie settled back into her seat, parting reluctantly from Gerard and rubbed at her poor knee with both hands.

"Oh my fucking God. I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

Gerard's hair was a fucking mess, his lips were a little red and puffy and his shirt was riding up his stomach which was definitely flabby, probably from all the beer he was drinking but Frankie still thought he was sexy as fuck. Maybe something in the way he was staring at her, like he wanted her more than anything. He reached out to touch Frankie's knee, the wrong one but it wasn't really what mattered and Frankie pressed a tiny kiss on his lips and forced herself to smile.

"Yeah. I'm okay."

Gerard gave her a faint smile and briefly squeezed her knee before sitting back behind the wheel, taking advantage of the interruption to pull away from the curb. He fastened his seat-belt with one hand and steered with the other.

Frankie couldn't see his face too well in the dark but she could hear him breathe fast. He licked his lips a lot too, as if they weren't wet enough already and turned to look at Frankie every so often.

Somewhere between Mahwah and Belleville, Gerard took Frankie's hand and put it on his thigh and Frankie decided to leave it there until they got home.

  
*

  
They tiptoed inside the quiet house, across the kitchen and down to the basement, Gerard holding Frankie's hand and squeezing it lightly as they stepped inside his room.

It was hot inside and it smelled really strongly of Gerard which was more than fine by Frankie.

Gerard hit the light switch and pulled Frankie inside the room, closing the door behind them very slowly.

To her surprise, Mikey wasn't there. Frankie was starting to wonder if he actually lived in this house. His bed was made and empty. His side of the room was a mess though: comic books and toys spread everywhere on the nightstand and at the foot of the bed. All these could have been Gerard's though.

Gerard let go of Frankie's hand when they reached Gerard's bed. He took off his shoes and kicked them carelessly across the room before working on the zipper of his hoodie.

Frankie watched him undress, not sure if she was supposed to give him a hand or look away. She stood there for a few seconds, an arm wrapped around her chest, worrying her bottom lip with her fingernails before eventually kicking off her sneakers and taking off her jacket.

"I'll take Mikey's bed, you take mine," Gerard said when he was down to his pants and to a very thin black Planet of the Apes t-shirt.

Frankie dropped her jacket onto Gerard's bed behind her and looked up at him.

"No way I'm kicking you out of your own bed, dumbass."

"Yes, way," Gerard said, grinning and pushing Frankie closer to his bed, very smoothly, his hands latched onto her hips. "When Mikey comes home drunk off his ass, he won't try to grope you. I'll take the bullet on this one."

Frankie sat down on the bed and giggled, sort of loud, almost snorting. It was probably too late too be this loud, especially since she wasn't supposed to be here.

"Wow. Thanks. How very heroic of you," she managed when her giggle was finally under control. As much as she liked Mikey, she preferred if Gerard was the one doing the groping.

Gerard let out a tiny laugh before coming to sit down next to Frankie. "Stop thanking me so much," he said as he crossed his legs and shifted a little closer to Frankie, his eyes focused on the door, as if he was expecting his brother or his parents to barge in any time. "You'd do the same thing for me if I needed it, right?"

He turned back to Frankie and slid an arm around her waist, his fingers skidding under her shirt.

"Well, yeah," she nodded, shuddering a little under Gerard's warm touch. "If my mom didn't hate your guts, I would let you sleep in my bed all the fucking time."

Frankie felt herself blush and smiled at Gerard, wide and awkward. At least she didn't say anything about his dick. The damage was already done though because now, all she wanted was to sleep with Gerard. Maybe just the curling up against him part, not necessarily the sex part although the thought of having sex with Gerard sounded pretty tempting.

Gerard gave her this sort of hopeful smile and grabbed her hand, locking his fingers with hers. Then, he leaned closer and planted a quick kiss on the corner of her lips, his breath warm against Frankie's cheek.

Frankie turned, catching his mouth with hers and kissing him properly, tongue teasing at his open lips, her hand slithering up his back and closing around the back of his neck. She was getting good at this but she was seriously starting to worry she was never going to be able to stop. Kissing Gerard felt like breathing. It felt like something she needed to do to stay alive.

Frankie wasn't sure how it happened but suddenly, they were both laying on the bed, kissing like there was no tomorrow and Gerard was lying on top of her. He wasn't crushing her or anything but Frankie squirmed a little, just because her arm was stuck between them.

Gerard moaned and squirmed too, his fingers wandering on Frankie's stomach, reaching up and cupping one of Frankie's breast under her shirt, caressing her through her bra.

Frankie squeaked, not because she wasn't enjoying herself but because she wasn't really expecting the way Gerard's fingers felt against her breast, his nails scraping urgently at the fabric of her bra.

Then, Gerard groaned and removed his hand, pulling away and sitting back up on the bed. His face was flushed and he wasn't looking at Frankie. Maybe she did something wrong. Maybe he didn't like flat chested girls.

"There are extra blankets in the closet if you're cold," he said quickly as he got up and walked across the room. He didn't sit down but stood there, staring at his brother's bed, his back turned on Frankie.

"I'm not cold."

Frankie slowly sat up and brought her knees up to her chest, trying to remember how to breathe right. She combed her messy hair with her fingers and waited for Gerard to say something.

When he finally looked back at her, his cheeks were still a little red but he didn't seem angry or anything.

"I-You want to take off your skirt?" he asked, his voice trembling as he motioned at Frankie's legs.

Frankie smiled and nodded before crawling under the sheets and pulling down her skirt. She dropped it on the floor and did the same thing with her socks.

"You want PJs or a t-shirt?" Gerard asked as he walked back to his bed and knelt down at the foot, staring at Frankie's skirt as if it was some kind of strange creature, poking it with his fingers to make sure it was really dead. "I could find you something that doesn't stink too much. Sweatpants?"

Frankie let out a tiny giggle and Gerard finally looked at her again. He was smiling.

"I'm good."

"Good," Gerard repeated as his hand reached out and brushed against Frankie's face, pushing her hair away from her eyes.

She leaned into the touch, rolling onto her side and closed her eyes, letting out a heavy sight when Gerard started running his fingers through her hair. Frankie opened her eyes after a few seconds and looked into Gerard's eyes. He was looking back at her so intently, like he was really seeing her and Frankie felt this sudden wave of sadness crashing over her.

"My parents hate me."

"I'm sure they don't," Gerard whispered, leaning over to kiss her cheek. "I think it's impossible not to love you."

The words were whispered against her cheek, Gerard's warm breath brushing up against her skin. It wasn't a real declaration of love in the sense that Gerard didn't actually say the words "I love you" but it still felt pretty amazing and Frankie's stomach leaped.

She was in love with Gerard. It wasn't just a teenage crush or some kind of passing feeling, something that could disappear overnight. She loved him with every fiber of her being. She could feel it everywhere, in her heart, lips, toes, fingers, stomach. He was the only thing that made sense in her world.

Gerard kept stroking her hair for a minute and Frankie grabbed his shoulder, pulling him just a little closer. She wanted him to climb in bed with her. She wanted him to wrap his arms around her and squeeze the sadness out of her, kiss it away.

"Stay with me tonight."

Gerard let out a heavy sigh and Frankie squeezed his shoulder.

"Please?"

"I won't be too far," he said, letting go of Frankie's hand and planting a kiss on her lips, something quick but tender. He got up and walked across the room, hitting the light switch.

Frankie couldn't see him too well in the dark, not right away. She heard him curse under his breath when he almost tripped, probably on one of the Transformers Frankie saw lying on the floor by Mikey's bed earlier.

It took her eyes a minute to adjust and then he was there, right in front of her, climbing into his brother's bed, still fully clothed from what she could see. He didn't bother pulling a blanket on top of him and just lay there on his side.

"Frankie?" he murmured after a bit.

"Yeah."

"Can you see me?"

Gerard waved at her and Frankie smiled even though she knew he probably couldn't see her. "Yeah."

"I'm right here if you need me. Ok?"

"Ok."

Frankie pulled the sheets up to her nose and tucked her hands under the pillow. Everything smelled so much like Gerard it was intoxicating.

She watched him move for a while as he rolled onto his side and then onto his back, looking a little restless and uncomfortable. Then, Frankie looked up at the tiny window high on the wall by the bed, the light of the moon eerie and blue and finally closed her eyes, shifting under the sheets and breathing in Gerard's scent on them.

"Good night, Frankie," she heard, barely a whisper.

 _Night, G._ , she thought as she drifted off, the words not leaving her mouth.

  
*

  
Frankie slept a dreamless sleep, tangled up in Gerard's sheets, feeling warm and safe. She could have probably slept the whole night through if she hadn't been woken up by a strange noise and a muffled voice she didn't recognize right away. She wasn't sure what time it was but it was probably the middle of the night since it was still dark in the room. Frankie was too tired to keep her eyes open though and too tired to move. She just lay still and listened, the sound of footsteps on the linoleum, dragging across the room followed by the squeaking of bed springs.

"How come there's a girl in your bed and a boy in mine?"

Whoever was talking was too loud and probably drunk as well, the way the words were mumbled.

"Shhh. It's Frankie." It was Gerard's voice. Frankie realized the other one had to belong to Mikey. A very drunk Mikey.

"Why aren't you in your bed then?" Mikey asked, giggling like an idiot. He was definitely drunk since Frankie had never heard him giggle before, not this loud anyway. "I thought you wanted to cuddle with her."

There was a shuffling of sheets and Gerard whispered, "I'll explain tomorrow. C'mere now and shut up."

Frankie was about to fall asleep again when she heard, "Tell me you didn't do it in my bed. Urgh."

She held her breath, not really sure why and listened to Gerard as he answered in a low, barely audible voice, "We didn't do it. Anywhere. Now, sleep."

"Why do I always have to be the big spoon?" Mikey asked, his voice fading as Frankie fell back asleep.

  
*

  
Everything was quiet when Frankie woke up the next morning. Only a few birds chirping outside the window and the distant sound of traffic. Frankie opened her eyes, yawning and stretching out her arms and legs under the warm sheets and searched for her alarm clock. It wasn't on the bedside table. Actually, her bedside table wasn't even there.

It took her a few seconds to process her surroundings. Dirty underwear on the floor, Warhammer figurines and a hobbit sword on the wall, and a strong musky smell, like a concentrate of Gerard with some added stench and sweat.

She realized she was in Gerard's bed, half naked and Gerard and Mikey were right there on the other side of the room, huddled together in Mikey's bed, snoring lightly. Frankie watched Gerard sleep for a minute or two, his brother's arms tightly wrapped around his chest, his face so peaceful, so pretty, his mouth open, his hands tucked between his knees, his hair falling over his eyes.

When Frankie finally crawled out of Gerard's bed and picked up her skirt and socks off the floor, Gerard and Mikey were still sleeping. She scanned the room for a minute, trying to find out what time it was and if she was running late for school. She found a small Batman alarm clock on the floor by Mikey's bed, all dusty and half hidden under a t-shirt.

She picked it up carefully and checked the time. It was still early; earlier than she usually got up on school days.

She put her clothes on quickly, retrieved her sneakers from under the bed and tiptoed out of the room. She shot one last glance at Gerard as she closed the door before slipping into the hallway. He was still sleeping.

Frankie wasn't sure what she was supposed to do, where she was supposed to go or if she was even supposed to be here. Making a run for the exit sounded like a good plan. Maybe she could sneak in back home and grab a few things before her mom got up. Maybe take a shower too.

There was a bathroom just one door down from the bedroom, a tiny closet with a shower and a sink cluttered with about a dozen different products, including some shampoo, conditioner, gel and a hair straightener, that probably all belonged to Mikey.

Frankie glanced at her pale reflection in the mirror and fixed her messy bed-hair, combing it with her fingers. She splashed some water on her face and made sure she didn't stink too much before climbing up the stairs, still carrying her sneakers in her hands. She walked into the kitchen and it smelled like freshly brewed coffee and cigarette. Everything Frankie needed to start her day.

"Hey there, Honeybunch," a hoarse voice called from behind her.

Frankie turned around swiftly and there was a short woman with bleached blond hair, an ugly pink leopard print bathrobe and pink fuzzy slippers standing by the sink, a huge smile on her face and a cigarette between her scrawny fingers. "Want some breakfast before you sneak out?"

"I'm not sneaking out," Frankie replied, feeling like a tiny bunny caught in the headlights of a fucking giant truck.

She dropped her sneakers on the floor and slipped them on. She could have probably just walked right out the door before Gerard or his brother got up. She probably looked gross and sparing Gerard from the horror of seeing her this way was the least she could do.

She was still considering a great escape when the woman spoke again. "Sure, baby. What would you like? Frankenberry? Toasts? Bacon? What tickles your fancy, darling?" Her voice was still hoarse, probably from smoking too much but she also sounded warm and kind of really nice. She took a long drag on her cigarette and dropped the butt into the sink.

"I, hmm, I'm not hungry," Frankie stuttered, smoothing out her skirt and shuffling her feet. "Thank you."

"Of course you're hungry. Look how skinny you are," said the woman who was most definitely Gerard and Mikey's mom as she walked up to Frankie and pushed a lock of hair away from Frankie's face. Her fingers were cold and Frankie jerked back a little.

"Look at that pretty little face," the woman said and Frankie hoped she wasn't going to pinch her cheeks. She hated when people did that. "You are gor-geous. No wonder my son is crazy about you."

Frankie rarely got compliments from strangers about the way she looked. Her mom and dad always told her she was pretty, but they were not to be trusted. Parents were supposed to say these kinds of things to their kids. It was some sort of mandatory parent thing.

Frankie didn't exactly know how to react to compliments. Was she supposed to say something like 'thank you' or 'no, I'm not pretty'? Maybe staring down at her feet and blushing was the best option, especially since the last part of the compliment was about Gerard and how he was crazy about her. That was a little too much for Frankie.

She took a couple of steps towards the door, ducking her head and trying not to giggle like an idiot, keeping her mouth closed so she wouldn't say anything stupid and embarrassing. In her haste to get away from Gerard's mom, Frankie banged her hip hard against the corner of the kitchen table, knocking down a family sized box of Frankenberries. She quickly picked it up and stepped away from the scene of the crime, barely looking up at Gerard's mom.

Frankie was probably bright red when Gerard's arm snaked around her waist a few seconds later. Frankie didn't even hear him climb up the stairs. Maybe stealth was another one of his superpowers.

He leaned closer and kissed her cheek, a quick peck, noisy and wet.

"Morning," he whispered against her cheek. His breath was warm and smelled like tobacco and toothpaste.

He let go of her, his fingers lingering on the small of her back for a moment before slipping away, brushing up against her hip.

Then, he walked up to his mom and gave her a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek too. "Morning, mom."

"Morning, pumpkin."

Gerard's mom gave him a kiss on the lips and patted his back and Frankie decided it was better to stare down at the floor until they were done. She bounced up on her feet, feeling uncomfortable and out of place.

It felt a little strange to witness something this intimate, a family that was so close-knit and weren't at each other's throats constantly. Frankie felt like she was intruding, like she wasn't supposed to see this.

When she looked up, Gerard and his mom had parted and he was pulling a couple of chairs away from the kitchen table. He looked at Frankie, smiling coyly before sitting down.

"Hey, pumpkin. Tell your girlfriend she needs to eat something," Gerard's mom said and then kissed the top of Gerard's head and ruffled his hair. She poured some coffee in one of the mugs and slid it over to Gerard.

"Thanks, ma." He took a long sip and looked up from his mug after a few seconds, giving Frankie a small smile as he patted the chair next to his. "Sit," he mouthed and Frankie complied, sitting down next to him.

Then, Gerard wrapped his arm around Frankie's waist, pulling her just a little closer. "You gotta eat something or she won't let you get out of the house," he whispered in her ear, letting go of her just long enough for him to grab her thigh. He started stroking her slowly under the table, his fingernails tracing patterns on her naked skin, skidding up past the hem of her skirt and down to her knee.

"Where's your brother?" Gerard's mom asked as she lit herself another cigarette.

"Dead to the world," Gerard replied, his hand patting Frankie's knee.

"Erm ... Do you have Pop-Tarts?" Frankie finally asked, her voice coming out all squeaky. Gerard gave her a gentle squeeze and Frankie put her hand on top of his before squeezing back.

Frankie watched as Gerard's mom shuffled through her pantry, a cluttered mess of cereal boxes and bags of chips and dug out a box of generic brand strawberry toaster pastries, the kind Frankie's mom usually bought for her too. They weren't anything special but Frankie liked them anyway because they didn't have all that gelatin crap on them and Frankie was a die-hard vegetarian.

"There you go, honeybunch," Gerard's mom said, her cigarette stuck between her lips and smoke coming out of her nostrils. She handed the box of not-really-Pop-tarts to Frankie and plucked the Camel Light out of her lips, leaving a ruby red lipstick circle around the filter before handing it to Gerard.

Frankie didn't want to be rude or anything so she didn't protest and smiled when Gerard's mom set a large plastic cup of orange juice in front of her. "Here, honeybunch, vitamins. All the good stuff."

"Thank you."

"Did you sleep well?" Gerard asked in a low voice, his pinkie finger locking in with Frankie's.

"Yeah," she replied, watching as Gerard's mom walked out of the kitchen and down to the basement, probably to check on Mikey. As much as she liked Mrs Way, Frankie was glad to see her go as she wasn't necessarily comfortable with Gerard fondling her under the table when his mom was around.

"Thanks for lending me your bed," she whispered and gave Gerard a quick kiss on the corner of his lips. He tasted like coffee and sugar and Frankie wanted to keep kissing him. She had to pull away though as Gerard took a drag on his mom's cigarette.

"No problem. You're welcome in my bed any time," he exhaled, blowing the smoke towards the ceiling fan.

Frankie shuddered when Gerard gave her a crooked grin and kissed her mouth with his coffee flavored lips. Then, his grin disappeared behind the rim of his coffee cup for a few seconds and Frankie noticed how pink his cheeks were.

Gerard's mom reappeared a few seconds later, snatching her cigarette back from Gerard's fingers and Frankie shifted back in her chair. She kept her fingers locked with Gerard's under the table though as she wasn't ready to let him go just yet.

Frankie ended up eating four strawberry toaster pastries and drinking two whole glasses of orange juice. It was more than she usually ate in an entire day but Gerard's mom kept asking her, "Anything else, honeybunch?" and Frankie just couldn't say no.

When she was finally done, Frankie went outside and sat down on the front porch with Gerard for a little while, her head on his shoulder, his hand on her thigh, waiting for Mikey to come out. They shared a cigarette and watched as cars and people passed by.

"I love your mom. She's rad," Frankie whispered against Gerard's neck before leaving a small kiss on the shell of his ear. "I like how she calls me honeybunch all the time," she added with a giggle.

"I think my mom has a giant crush on you," Gerard said and Frankie pulled away, just so she could give him a quick kiss. Their lips touched just as Mikey stumbled out of the house.

"Stop being gross and get your ass in the car," Mikey mumbled before trudging down the stairs. He leaned against Gerard's car and tapped his foot, impatiently. "I don't want to be late because you can't stop sucking face."

"We weren't sucking face. Asshole," Gerard said before pulling Frankie closer, almost hoisting her up onto his lap. Then, he was kissing her, sloppy and noisy, fingers tugging at her shirt and her hair. It was probably just to get back at Mikey but Frankie really didn't mind.

"Urgh. You guys are so gross," Frankie heard and Gerard started giggling against her mouth.

  
*

  
They made it to school with time to spare and Gerard parked haphazardly along the curb like he always did. Frankie snatched Gerard's hand as soon as they passed the front gate and locked their fingers together. He didn't seem to mind so it probably meant they were officially boyfriend and girlfriend now.

  
Frankie had a boyfriend. She couldn't really wrap her head around it yet. For the first time, she had her very own boyfriend and he was all kinds of awesome. She stared at Gerard's face for a little while as they fended the crowd gathered outside, slowly making their way up the stairs. She kept squeezing his hand tighter when they walked past someone Frankie hated and Gerard squeezed back, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb, soothingly.

  
Out of habit, Frankie ducked her head when they walked past Jenny Alonzo, the asswipe who kept throwing random things in Frankie's hair in Chem class just to see if they'd stick there until the end of the period. Frankie squeezed Gerard's hand once more as they passed Paul Whatshisface, the moron who liked to spit on her every time Frankie ate at the cafeteria, just because he thought spitting on people was funny as hell.

  
"You okay?" Gerard whispered, leaning closer to Frankie when they reached the bottom of the stairs.

  
Frankie nodded and gave Gerard a faint smile. When she looked at the crowd again, she saw Alicia, standing outside on the steps, probably waiting for her, a huge grin on her face.

  
Mikey, who had been whining and dragging his feet ever since he had stepped inside his brother's car, suddenly fell silent. He pushed past Gerard to get to Alicia first and stood there in front of her for a few seconds, quiet, his knees bending at a weird angle.

  
"Hey, Mikey Way," Alicia said and a smile appeared on Mikey's ever so stoic face.

  
"Hi, Alicia," Mikey mumbled.

  
"Hey, guys," Alicia said as soon as Frankie and Gerard joined them by the entrance.

  
"Hey," Gerard replied with a tiny wave.

  
Alicia quickly wrapped an arm around Frankie's waist and pulled her in for a hug. "You better tell me everything," she whispered in her ear before pulling away.

  
"Are we still on for prom?" Alicia asked before grabbing Mikey's arm and giving him a peck on the cheek.

  
He blushed and nodded vehemently. "Yes, yes we are. Most definitely. Prom."

  
"Awesome," Alicia grinned.

  
"Awesome," he echoed, pushing his glasses back up on his nose.

  
Frankie didn't let go of Gerard's hand as they walked to her classroom and Alicia didn't let go of Mikey's arm either. They stopped in the middle of the hallway and Mikey pressed his lips on Alicia's for a second, just a tiny kiss before pulling away. Then, he marched down the hallway, glancing back at Alicia a couple of times, a grin on his face.

  
Frankie turned to Gerard, cocking her eyebrows and Gerard shrugged and gave her a crooked smile.

  
"I didn't know you guys were going to prom together," Frankie asked just as Mikey disappeared around a corner. She didn't know they were kissing in public either but it wasn't something she wanted to talk about. Not when Gerard was around anyway since she wasn't entirely sure they were at this stage of their relationship yet.

  
"Yeah. Mikey Way and Bob are taking me," Alicia declared, beaming. "This is going to be so awesome. You guys are coming too, right?" she asked, stepping aside to let a group of girls through.

  
"I'm not going," Frankie announced and Alicia's face dropped.

  
"What? Why?"

  
"Don't you fucking know me at all?"

  
Frankie wasn't a very good dancer unless she was in a mosh pit, hated to dress up and pick fucking matching shoes and let Alicia do her hair and put make up on her that made her look like a hooker clown. The fact that no one invited her either had nothing to do with her hatred of school dances. She didn't see the point in spending an evening in a room full of people she despised when she could be at home, in her comfy pajamas, watching movies and stuffing her face with popcorn. Frankie made a habit of boycotting school dances and so far, it worked out pretty well for her.

  
"Didn't you invite her, you jerk?" Alicia asked Gerard, punching his shoulder hard enough to make him stagger and giving him a reproachful look.

  
"Should I...Should I invite you?" Gerard asked as he turned to Frankie, rubbing his poor shoulder where Alicia had punched him. "Would you like to go?"

  
"No. I don't like these things," Frankie replied with a smile.

  
Gerard let out a sigh of relief. "Ok. Good. Cause I don't even know when that is."

  
"It's the same night we're doing our Bill Murray movie marathon," Frankie said matter-of-factly before pulling Gerard closer.

  
Prom was only two weeks away, more or less, not that Frankie really cared but since they hadn't really set a date for their movie night yet, Frankie thought Gerard was going to be confused.

  
He didn't look like he was though as he licked his lips and whispered, "I don't need a tuxedo to watch Groundhog Day, right?"

  
"Nope."

  
Frankie giggled at the mental image. Gerard Way in a tuxedo. Gerard Way with hair gel and a bow-tie showing up on her doorstep with a bouquet.

  
"You're so awesome," Gerard said with a lopsided grin, and Frankie wanted to kiss him more than anything.

  
"You guys are ultimate dorks," Alicia said, shaking her head affectionately.

  
Frankie didn't let go of Gerard's hand until the bell rang a few minutes later. She never had a boyfriend before so she wasn't sure how she was supposed to act in public. Kissing in front of Mikey wasn't really the same thing as kissing in front of her entire History class or in front of the entire school, dickwads and skanks included.

She bit her bottom lip and took a quick look around, just to make sure no one but Alicia was looking at them before leaning over and pressing her lips against Gerard's for no more than a couple of seconds. It still felt good though and Gerard grabbed both her hands and squeezed them.

  
When Frankie pulled away Gerard's eyes were still closed. He looked so pretty like this that Frankie went in for another kiss. She took her time, tasting and exploring Gerard's lips. He still tasted like coffee and cigarettes, sugary and bitter at the same time.

  
Frankie pressed herself against Gerard and the kiss deepened, her tongue licking inside his mouth.

  
Alicia cleared her throat loudly and they pulled apart, so slowly. Gerard let go of Frankie's hands, his eyes still closed. He licked his lips and Frankie took a couple of steps back towards Alicia.

  
"See you on the rooftop?" Frankie asked and Gerard's eyes blinked open.

  
"Yeah." He smiled and repeated, "Yeah."

  
Alicia grabbed Frankie's arm and dragged her away from Gerard, pulling her inside the classroom where a couple of girls were glaring at them.

  
Gerard stood there in the doorway for a minute before someone pushed him aside, some rude asshole who was apparently in a rush to get to class.

  
"Just so you know, I hate you," Alicia whispered just as Mr Harper made his entrance, fashionably late as usual.

  
"What?"

  
Alicia sighed. "He's so fucking obviously in love with you."

  
"Shut up," Frankie muttered, her cheeks suddenly very hot. "He's not."

  
Mr Harper always took at least ten minutes to settle in his chair, to shuffle aimlessly through his notes and papers, leaving Alicia plenty of time to talk about Mikey and Bob and how they were renting a limo to go to the dance. Frankie nodded and pretended she cared about Bob's shiny new tuxedo and bow-tie for a minute before shifting closer to Alicia.

  
"I slept in his bed," Frankie whispered and Alicia's eyes widened.

  
"Oh my God. Oh. Wow." She paused for a few seconds before asking, "Slept slept or slept and other fun stuff?"

  
"Slept slept," Frankie sighed. "I think he doesn't like my boobs. They're probably too small. Guys are not into flat chested girls, you know?"

  
"Dude," Alicia giggled. "The boy gets hard just by looking at you. I'm pretty sure he loves every inch of your tiny chubby body. Even your faily A cup boobies that look more like mosquito bites."

  
Frankie huffed and elbowed Alicia in the ribs before settling back in her chair. Mr Harper and at least half of the class were staring at them.

  
The class was incredibly boring and long and about guys who had been dead for centuries. Frankie tried to focus on the dates and names but she was pretty sure nothing would end up sticking. Her brain was already full of more important stuff than Benjamin Franklin and his fucking kite. She took a few notes, though, just because she didn't have anything better to do. Then, Alicia leaned across the row and poked Frankie's arm with her bony fingers.

  
"You know, you should call your mom," she whispered, her eyes on Mr Harper.

  
"Why would I do that?"

  
"Cause she's been calling my mom and asking her if we were hiding you or some shit," Alicia replied and she might have been a little too loud because Harper turned around and gave her his signature frown.

  
Alicia settled back into her seat and pretended to take notes for the whole of two seconds before looking back at Frankie.

  
Frankie didn't really feel like being sent to the principal's office for chatting with Alicia. The school would call her mom and there would be fighting and screaming and crying and maybe Frankie would be sent to an all girl boarding school somewhere far away from Gerard. This couldn't happen.

  
Frankie scribbled down _I don't care_ on a blank page of her notebook and handed it to Alicia, neatly folded.

  
Alicia took her time to write her reply and Frankie expected her to have written a long paragraph or even a short story by the time she handed the note back to her. Frankie was surprised to see only a couple of sentences on it, in Alicia's tiny and girlie handwriting. _She even called BOB'S MOM! Can you imagine how pissed off he was?_ She had turned the Os of Bob and mom into frowny faces.

  
Frankie shrugged and tucked the note into her history book before Harper saw it.

  
Frankie had no idea how her mom got a hold of Bob's phone number. She didn't know his last name and refused to talk to him the very few times he came over. Her mom was really outdoing herself this time. The next logical step would probably be putting Frankie's face on milk cartons. The woman was a fucking lunatic.

*

  
Frankie met Gerard on the roof an hour before lunch, like they always did on Tuesdays. They shared a cigarette and lay on the concrete, watching the clouds and talking about vampires and werewolves and their potential spawn, the Werepires, the best of both species without any of the shortcomings. Gerard even promised to draw one later, just for future reference.

This didn't feel any different from their usual ditch-Tuesdays except that there was a lot more kissing and fondling involved.

"I need to get some stuff from my mom's," Frankie said, a little out of breath as she pulled away from Gerard's lips and put her head down on his chest, listening to his heart beating, fast and loud.

"You should call her and tell her you're ok," Gerard said as he wrapped his arms around Frankie's back, stroking her, his fingers skidding under her shirt and up to her shoulder blades, twisting in her bra strap. "She's probably worried."

"I don't care."

Frankie squirmed until she was lying on top of him and kissed his chin, lazily. She really hoped he was going to stop talking about this and move to a much more pleasant subject. They could also not talk at all and Frankie would be more than fine with it.

"You should at least leave a note. Just to let her know you're not in a ditch somewhere," he added, planting a kiss of Frankie's forehead.

"Ok."

Maybe she could leave a note. A note wouldn't require any actual talking. Maybe she could just write _Stop looking for me and leave my friends out of this, you bitch_ on the dry erase board in the kitchen. That would probably do the trick.

"Do you think your mom will be alright with me staying longer?"

"Yeah. She wouldn't mind adopting you. You're the first girl I ever bring home, so she's a little excited," Gerard said, sounding a little excited himself, his voice coming out almost squeaky. "I think she would be more comfortable if you slept on the couch from now on though," he added in a more serious tone.

"Of course, yeah." She didn't want to impose or anything. It wasn't fair to ask Gerard to give up his bed for her.

"Or I could sleep on the couch and Mikey could sleep on the floor or whatever."

"You're not sleeping on the couch, Gerard," Frankie said before shutting him up by kissing him, hard and sloppy, teeth colliding. It sounded like he was trying to say something by the way he moaned and hummed and tried to break the kiss but Frankie shoved her tongue inside his mouth and Gerard went still.

They kissed for a little while, barely pulling apart for air and then, Gerard grabbed a handful of Frankie's shirt, pulling it up just a little, exposing her stomach and started moving under her, his hips bucking a couple of times, his breathing heavy.

Frankie felt something hard brushing up against her thigh. Even though Gerard was her first real boyfriend, she knew how everything worked. She wasn't an idiot. Gerard was hard and he probably needed some more friction and Frankie would be a shitty girlfriend if she didn't help him out.

She started squirming and shifting on top of him, rubbing her thigh against his bulge, trying to work up a rhythm. Gerard gasped and Frankie pulled away from his mouth to kiss his chin and his neck as he tilted his head back.

Then, Frankie slid a hand between them, running her fingers on Gerard's stomach under his shirt before moving down to his crotch, palming at Gerard's cock through his pants. She didn't really know what she was doing but Gerard seemed to like it as he started thrusting in her hand, slow and lazy at first before picking up the pace. He let out a strangled cry and twisted his fingers in Frankie's hair.

Frankie's fingernails scraped the fabric of Gerard's pants and Gerard moaned and let go of Frankie's hair to tug on her shirt instead, his fingers clasping helplessly at the hem, pulling it even further up her back, uncovering more skin.

Frankie pressed her lips against his once more, muffling the incoherent string of words that escaped his mouth as she stroked just a little faster, her fingers closing around Gerard's cock, still imprisoned inside his stupid fucking pants.

"Godfrankiefuckohshitfrankienyargh"

Frankie would have probably laughed like a fucking idiot at how ridiculous Gerard sounded if she hadn't been so completely turned on by the way he looked as he moved under her, thrusting and arching his back to meet her every strokes.

Then, Gerard groaned and sucked in a breath and shuddered and his eyes rolled back and it had to be the most amazing thing Frankie had ever seen. His hips bucked a few more times before he stopped moving completely.

Frankie pulled away from Gerard's mouth and watched his face, flushed, ridiculous and beautiful at the same time, his mouth hanging open, his lips slick and his hair a sticky mess, clamped to his forehead. He was panting, his breath warm against Frankie's cheeks, his eyes closed. He fisted Frankie's hair and her back before pulling her down for a kiss.

"Wow, shit," Gerard gasped as Frankie slowly removed her hand from the wet spot on his crotch, taking her time to run her fingers down his thigh before going up to his stomach.

Gerard licked his lips and opened his mouth and Frankie waited for him to say something else but he didn't. He just panted and pushed his hair away from his face.

When he finally opened his eyes, Frankie smiled and pressed a small kiss on the tip of his nose.

Gerard smiled back and let go of her shirt.

Frankie rolled onto her side, the concrete cold against her damp skin. She pulled her wrinkled shirt down and put her head onto Gerard's chest again. She pressed her lips on his shirt and planted a few kisses there before wrapping an arm around him. Then, she started stroking his side, slowly, closing her eyes and breathing in his scent, a mix of tobacco, paint and sex. She listened to Gerard's shaky breathing, his heart still racing in his chest and warmth radiating from his body.

"This cloud looks like someone barfing," Gerard said after a few quiet minutes before kissing the top of Frankie's head. His voice was hoarse as if he had been chain-smoking and it sounded so fucking sexy.

"That's awesome and gross," Frankie mumbled without even looking up at the sky.

She didn't open her eyes either when she felt Gerard's hands slide around the small of her back, pulling her into a tight embrace.

Frankie fell asleep to the sound of the birds chirping and to Gerard whispering things to her about clouds that looked like gerbils or hamsters or maybe squirrels. She was pretty sure he talked about the Bat-signal at some point too but she was too tired to do more than hum and nod.

  
She was just too comfortable, her head nested on Gerard’s chest, her arms wrapped around him and her legs tangled up in his.

  
She slept through the rest of the period and missed lunch too. She woke up just a few minutes before her next class, Gerard shaking her shoulder gently and whispering her name.

*

  
Her mom wasn't even there when Frankie came home that afternoon. Frankie used the spare key she had stashed under one of the flower pot by the door to get in. Gerard followed her inside, dragging his feet and looking a little nervous, peeking inside every room as they made their way through the house.

Frankie stopped by the kitchen to jot down a message on the dry erase board like she promised Gerard.

She wiped out the grocery list that had been there since the dawn of time and stood in front of the board for a minute, her mind drawing a blank. Then, she quickly wrote in a shaky and slanted handwriting _Im fine. staying at a friends for now. XO Frankie_

Frankie turned around and found Gerard looking at the pictures that hung on the wall by the fridge. These were mostly pictures of her when she was a baby and Frankie wasn't really comfortable with the idea of Gerard seeing her in her diapers or playing with her favorite Carebear. She grabbed Gerard's hand and steered him out of the kitchen, away from her embarrassing baby pictures.

When they walked in her bedroom, Frankie wasn't really surprised to see that her bed was made and that her mom had cleaned up a bit. Her comics were neatly stacked on her desk and there was no dirty laundry lying on the floor, nothing incriminating like a bra hanging from her lampshade or a box of tampons sitting on her nightstand.

Frankie let go of Gerard's hand and watched as he sat down on her bed, looking a little uncomfortable as he shuffled his feet on the carpet and bounced on her squeaky mattress. "I like your room," he said in a low voice.

Frankie shrugged as she started packing a few things at random, her old pair of jeans, a handful of t-shirts and underwear, Gerard's pajama pants and his sweat shirt. She grabbed a pile of comic books from her collection and Gerard's drawings too and shoved everything in her backpack.

Frankie didn't want to stay longer than necessary, just in case her mom got off work early. She grabbed Gerard's hand and Gerard looked up at her and smiled. He took Frankie's backpack and got up, holding onto Frankie's hand, lacing their fingers together as they walked out of her room.

  
*

  
Frankie liked staying with the Ways although she suspected Mrs Way, who insisted Frankie called her Donna, from trying to fatten her up so she could eventually eat her. She was a very strange but very warm and outgoing woman.

After school, they sat on the front porch together and Mrs Way shared her cigarettes with Frankie while they talked about school and boys. Mrs Way talked about Gerard a lot and Frankie didn't mind at all since he happened to be her favorite subject of conversation too.

The nights were a little cold and lonely in the living room and Mrs Way had the creepiest doll collection Frankie had ever seen, all lined up around the TV, staring at Frankie with their empty beady eyes. The couch itself was comfortable although the leather squeaked every time Frankie moved a muscle.

When she wasn't on the couch or on the front porch with their mother, Frankie spent most of her time with Gerard and Mikey in their room. They sat in Gerard's bed and watched horror movies on this shitty little TV set they had up on the dresser or talked about punk rock or about all the obscure graphic novels only Gerard knew, while drinking anything Gerard managed to steal from the liquor cabinet. When Mikey wasn't around, Frankie watched Gerard paint, curled up in his bed.

They didn't kiss too much in front of Mikey anymore and tried to limit themselves to holding hands when they were at the dinner table. It was hard though and after a week of living there, Frankie was craving Gerard's touch.

One night, Frankie was coming out of the bathroom after taking a shower, her hair dripping on her shoulders, not wearing much but her old washed out Misfits t-shirt that was kind of see-through and a pair of shorts and Gerard was standing outside the door, leaning against the wall and biting his bottom lip.

"I'm done. You can come in if you need to use the bathroom," Frankie said, stepping aside to let Gerard in.

The doorway was narrow and the room couldn't really fit two people at the same time. Frankie somehow ended up pressing herself against Gerard, her back to the sink.

"Yeah?" Gerard asked as he ran his fingers through her damp hair and planted a kiss on her forehead. He smelled like two days old sweat and shitty beer and he probably could have use a shower but Frankie didn't really care because he was touching her.

"Yeah. I was just about to go upstairs," she replied as Gerard pushed the door closed behind him and pressed himself against Frankie.

"I miss you," he whispered as he started kissing a trail from her chin down to her collarbone.

"Miss you, too."

Frankie didn't mind being locked in a closet with Gerard because it probably meant they were going to kiss and fondle and Frankie was pretty sure she was going to die if Gerard didn't touch her.

Gerard planted small kisses on her cheeks, noisy and slow and then, his hands were everywhere on Frankie. They were running through her hair, under her t-shirt, on her stomach, on her breasts. She didn't have her bra on this time and Gerard's fingers froze for just a second when they made contact with the curve of her breasts. He pulled away slightly and looked at Frankie, his eyes sort of hazy. He probably didn't expect Frankie to be naked under her t-shirt.

Frankie gave him an encouraging moan, just so he knew she was okay with this and Gerard resumed his bold exploration.

His fingertips were smooth and hot and kind of sweaty, too. He stroked her slowly, his fingers barely brushing against her breasts, his thumb tracing circles on her chest, delicately, as if he was afraid to break her or something.

Frankie pushed herself against Gerard, a little closer and tilted her head back as Gerard licked a long strip on her neck, his tongue hot against her cool and wet skin.

Gerard kissed her mouth and Frankie hummed, climbing on top of the sink and hooking her legs around Gerard's hips, wrapping them around his back. This made Gerard kiss her even harder, grabbing her wet hair and tugging on it as his other hand was busy fondling her, his fingers lingering on her stomach before moving down to her thighs.

"Can I ...?" Gerard asked in a hoarse, sexed up voice, his fingers slowly sliding past the waistband of Frankie's shorts.

At first, Frankie didn't really understand what Gerard meant, what he was asking her. She stared at his hand as it slithered down her shorts and then, it hit her like a wrecking ball in the stomach. _This_ was going on. Gerard's hand stopped after a few seconds, though, and Frankie pushed against his fingers, wanting more.

"No. I mean, yeah. Keep going," she nodded, wheezing and Gerard's hand started moving again. His fingers slid inside her underwear and Frankie bounced up, surprised by how good it felt. Mikey's stupid hair products were falling everywhere, crashing on the floor and into the cluttered sink, too loud.

Frankie wrapped her arms around Gerard's neck and tried not to lose her balance, the edge of the sink digging into her ass. She bit her lip when two of Gerard's finger found their way inside her while the rest of his hand was pressing against her clit, rubbing it in slow strokes.

This was nothing like getting herself off. The fingers teasing her were not hers but Gerard's and they were smooth and agile and hot. Frankie could feel them everywhere on her, in her, stroking her at a slow but steady pace.

Gerard's fingers made these wet sounds as the slid in and out of her, faster and faster and Frankie thought she was going to choke or possibly have a heart attack. Her head was swimming, her stomach was clenching. She shuddered and tensed as Gerard's fingers pushed deeper inside her and then, his thumb stroke that tiny spot that felt so good and she was gone. He kept stroking the same spot over and over again as Frankie bounced up on the sink, biting her bottom lip hard, the moment before her orgasm stretching almost painfully.

Frankie didn't want to be too loud because it was late and Mikey was in the room next door so she panted through her orgasm, grabbing at Gerard's t-shirt and at his neck, pulling his mouth towards hers, urgent, desperate, his lips stifling a moan. Her hips snapped forward as she pushed against Gerard's wet fingers and Gerard kissed her, hard and thorough before picking up the pace again, stroking Frankie through a mind-blowing orgasm that made her whole body tremble.

When Frankie broke the kiss, feeling like she was about to suffocate, she squeaked and groaned and bit on Gerard's shoulder to muffle her cries, her teeth digging into his flesh, her toes curling and her heels digging into Gerard's back, her hips rocking, grinding against Gerard's fingers.

She wanted to scream something, anything, maybe tell Gerard she loved him but instead, she mumbled against his skin, "Thank you."

She probably sounded and looked stupid when she came because Gerard started giggling as soon as she pulled away. Who the hell said "thank you" after an orgasm anyway?

"Sorry," she heaved, her head resting on Gerard's shoulder. "That was loud."

"No. That was fucking amazing," he whispered against her mouth before kissing her again, licking at her lips and at her tongue.

Frankie pulled away as she slowly dropped from the sink and back on her feet, her knees shaking, her thighs and her stomach sore.

Gerard's hand slid out of her underwear, his fingers all sticky and wet. He wiped them off on Frankie's towel, nonchalantly before she even had time to say anything. Then, his hand fell to his side and Frankie realized he was hard, his erection obvious inside his Batman pajama pants.

Frankie bit her bottom lip as she grabbed his bulge and Gerard grunted and jumped back, his back hitting the doorknob with a loud thud. His pajama pants were already a little wet.

"Wow. I'm sorry," Frankie muttered and Gerard ducked his head, picking on a loose thread of his t-shirt.

Frankie wasn't sure this was supposed to happen. Maybe she should have been flattered that Gerard could come without even being touched once or maybe there was something really wrong with him.

Frankie let out a nervous giggle and Gerard frowned before taking a step towards her, closing the short distance between them. He pressed himself against her, biting on her bottom lip and pushing her back against the sink as he kissed her, urgently.

Frankie held on to the edge of the sink, knocking down the last bottle of gel or whatever gunk Mikey used on his hair to make it stick out and look like a fucking bird nest. It fell onto the tiled floor, with a loud crack and then rolled across the room.

There was a series of bangs on the wall right behind Frankie and Gerard pulled away quickly. They stared at each other for a few seconds, wide eyed and Frankie held her breath.

"I'm trying to sleep so would you fucking keep your sex shenanigans down? You fucking assholes," Mikey finally yelled, his voice barely muffled by the wall.

Frankie should have been embarrassed but for some reason, she wasn't. Not that much anyway. Maybe it was because her brain had melted into a puddle of sex goo.

She started giggling and Gerard joined her a few seconds later. They hugged tight and kissed and laughed for a little while longer, until Mikey pounded against the wall again.

"Stop that shit now or I'll tell mom."

Gerard sighed against Frankie's flushed skin and let go.

"I guess I should go now," she said, stumbling towards the door, pushing herself against Gerard one last time. She circled him until her back was pressed against the door. She managed to find the knob behind her and pulled the door open.

It was much cooler in the hallway and the air brushed against Frankie's wet skin, making her shiver. She took a couple of steps back, reluctantly parting from Gerard and his warmth.

"Good night," Gerard whispered as he let go of her hand.

"Night, G."

Gerard gave her a small smile and closed the bathroom door.

Frankie trotted up the stairs on rubbery legs, her heart still racing and her stomach flipping. She couldn't stop grinning and she was still shaking a little when she collapsed onto the couch, pulling the blankets on top of her. All she could see when she closed her eyes was Gerard's face, his smile, his stupid hair, his eyes and his fingers.

She wanted to stay with the Ways forever.

  
*

  
The next day, they were all having lunch by the bleachers, Frankie curled up in Gerard's lap, digging into the bag of Goldfish Gerard had brought for her while Gerard was petting her hair lazily. Alicia was lying in the grass a few inches away from her, her head resting on Bob's thigh and Mikey lying with his head in her lap.

They looked like a disorganized stack of losers and people were giving them weird looks as they passed by, like they had just walked in on an orgy or something.

Ray Toro, Bob and Gerard's geeky friend who had the most awesome hair Frankie had ever seen, was there too, talking to Bob about his Paladin character in Dungeons and Dragons and trying to explain him how a Forgotten Realms campaign worked. It was funny to watch them because Ray looked very excited about D&D and he kept talking with his hands, waving them around, and Bob nodded occasionally like he did when Frankie was talking to him about Riot Grrrl bands or something he couldn't have cared less about.

Frankie was about to doze off when Gerard leaned closer and whispered in her ear, "I think you're gonna be mad at me."

"What did you do?" she asked, quickly rolling onto her back to look up at Gerard. She blinked and covered her eyes because the sun was too bright and Gerard shielded her with his shadow, leaning forward and pushing her hand away from her face.

Frankie stared at him as he bit his bottom lip and gave her a weird crooked smile.

"I, erm, I sort of ... called your mom last night?" he replied in a sheepish tone.

"What? Why?" Frankie shouted, sitting up and shifting away from Gerard as far as she possibly could. Everyone in a ten mile radius turned to look at her and Frankie just wanted to tell them all to go fuck themselves. "Why would you do even that?" she asked Gerard, still way too loud and kicked Gerard's knee hard with her heels.

Gerard jerked back, rubbing his knee where Frankie's shoe had left a footprint and his smile vanished. He glanced at their friends before crawling back up on his feet and pulling Frankie up off the ground before she even had time to protest.

Frankie followed him reluctantly as they walked to the bleachers where a small group of boys were smoking and giggling like idiots. Gerard didn't let go of her hand and Frankie had to shrug him off. He tried to grab her hand again but Frankie took a few steps back. She knew that her anger would go away as soon as Gerard touched her and she wasn't ready to let this go.

Gerard stopped as soon as they reached the edge of the bleachers and just stood there.

Frankie quickly turned to see what Alicia and Bob were doing. If Frankie needed Gerard's ass kicked, Bob would probably do it, no questions asked.

Alicia sat up and gave Frankie a concerned look before pushing Mikey out of her lap. She said something to him and Mikey shrugged before putting his head back where it was.

When Frankie turned around, Gerard was shuffling his feet, dust billowing around him. He was looking at her behind a curtain of his greasy hair, not explaining himself, just staring at her.

"Why did you fucking call her? Are you fucking insane?"

The potheads all stopped giggling and looked up at Frankie. One of them snorted loudly and his friends pushed him to the other end of the bleachers, as if they were afraid Frankie was going to kill them all.

Frankie didn't really mean to scream, not this loud anyway. She didn't really like being the center of attention, not in school where she tried to stay under the radar of pretty much everyone.

She took a deep breath and asked again, in a calmer tone of voice, "Why did you call her, Gerard?"

She couldn't understand why he would do something like this behind her back. Why he would betray her like this. Maybe they spent hours talking shit about her. Her mom probably told Gerard that Frankie wasn't worth the trouble and that she was an annoying little brat. Then, Gerard told her Frankie was a shitty girlfriend who hoarded the shower, was a pain in the ass about pretty much everything and that she always fell asleep in his bed when she was supposed to pay attention to him while he was making art and shit.

"I don't think this is good," Gerard said, grabbing her hands and pulling her close. Frankie struggled to get away but Gerard held on tight. "This is not working out," he announced, grave.

Frankie looked up at Gerard, her jaw dropping. She stopped struggling and also stopped breathing.

Gerard was breaking up with her. She was pretty sure her life was over. Her stomach clenched and her heart started beating really fast and so loud she thought that even the potheads at the other end of the bleachers could hear it.

"No," she managed to say, feeling as if the ground was about to swallow her. "No. You can't ..."

"I mean, you living with us isn't working out," Gerard added quickly as he stroked the back of Frankie's hands with his thumbs, soothing her, tracing small circles on her skin with the soft pads of his fingers. "Your mom misses you and I really think you should talk to her."

"No."

Frankie pulled her hands away from him and took a step back. Gerard let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders dropping, looking tired and defeated.

"If you need me out of your house then, fine. I'll leave," Frankie said, kicking and digging her feet into the dust. She didn't know where she would go. Maybe she could stay at Alicia's if her mom would let her. Alicia's mom was nice and everything, if not a little strange. Alicia's brother was kind of a douche to Frankie, though, and Frankie didn't really want to spend time with him. He liked to tease her about everything and called her a midget because he was fucking six feet tall and an asshole.

"I didn't mean it like this, Frankie. You know I didn't."

"There's no fucking way I'm going back to live with her," Frankie said as she started walking away from Gerard, back to their lunch spot and to her friends, hoping Gerard would just stop talking about her mom and leave her be.

She was about to reach the lawn when Gerard screamed, "Stop being a dickhead, Frankie."

Frankie flipped around and Gerard's fingers latched onto her arm. He wasn't really strong or anything and Frankie could have probably pushed him away. She struggled weakly to get free for a few seconds.

"Did you just call me a dickhead, you fucker?"

Gerard dragged her back under the bleachers and let go of her arm, grabbing her hands instead. He squeezed them and gave Frankie a small smile and Frankie didn't feel like fighting anymore.

"Your mom is worried about you," Gerard said in a low voice. "I told her you were fine and that my mom fed you well and everything, but I really think it's time you talk to her."

"She won't let me be with you, you jerk. If I go back, we won't be able to see each other anymore. How is that fucking fair?" Frankie asked, letting Gerard wrap his arms around her. He squeezed her tight, kissing the corner of her lips, and Frankie closed her eyes.

Then Gerard touched her cheeks, stroking them slowly, pushing her hair away from her face and tucking it behind her ears.

"Frankie," he finally said, whispering her name against her mouth, and Frankie opened her eyes again. He pulled away ever so slightly and whispered, "I'm nineteen and you're fifteen. Of course, your mom worries."

Gerard blushed and ducked his head. "I mean, she has reasons to, you know?" He looked up at Frankie again after a few seconds and gave her a lopsided smile. "It's not like we haven't been doing ... stuff."

"Oh my God, Gerard. Seriously, cut the crap. You're not raping me or anything," she said, stroking Gerard's sides and clasping at his shirt. Then, she bit her bottom lip and took a deep breath before adding, "I want you." She paused and tugged at Gerard's shirt, pulling him even closer. "I want you all the fucking time, Gerard. I love you."

Saying _I love you_ wasn't as hard as people made it sound. The words just came out before she even had time to think too much about them. It felt good to know it was out there now, and Frankie wanted to say it again and again.

Frankie slowly pushed Gerard against the fence behind him, twisting her fingers in his hair and watching his lips as Gerard licked them and bit them. She wanted Gerard to say something. Anything. Frankie didn't really mind if Gerard didn't feel the same way just as long as he opened his mouth.

Gerard didn't say anything back at first. He just stared at Frankie for the longest second in history and leaned forward to kiss her, tender and careful.

Frankie kissed him back, humming happily inside his mouth and licking his tongue eagerly. He tasted so sweet, like strawberries and pure sugar, probably because the only thing he had for lunch was the strawberry Hostess pie Frankie had bought for him from the vending machine. Frankie didn't want to stop kissing him. She shuddered when he slipped his strawberry flavored tongue inside her mouth, and Frankie sucked on it as if it were a fucking popsicle.

When they broke apart after a little while, both of them panting, a thin thread of saliva still connecting their slick and slightly puffy lips, Gerard leaned and whispered in her ear, "I love you too, Frankie. So fucking much, you have no idea." There was something so urgent and so earnest in his voice that Frankie knew he meant every word of it.

Frankie giggled even though there wasn't anything remotely funny, and Gerard looked up at her, raising an eyebrow, probably confused as hell. Frankie buried her face in the crook of his neck and muffled her giggle against his skin, petting the back of his neck as she whispered his name, feeling him tremble against her.

"I don't think you should ignore your mom," Gerard said as he wrapped his arms around Frankie's back. "She loves you, too, and I'm sure I can eventually convince her that I'm not a complete asshole who's gonna break her daughter's heart as soon as he gets what he wants."

"Are you gonna break my heart?" Frankie asked, pulling away momentarily and looking into Gerard's eyes, intently.

Gerard didn't look like the kind of guy who would dump her after he got laid. Maybe he was, though. It wasn't as if Frankie had a built in asshole radar.

Gerard shook his head no and Frankie smiled. "Good, cause I'm pretty sure Bob would bust your kneecaps if you did."

Frankie put her head back on Gerard's shoulder and shut her eyes. She stayed like that for a few minutes, stroking Gerard's back slowly while he petted her hair, his fingers twisting in her bangs, clenching and unclenching.

"What do you want me to do?" Frankie asked, nuzzling at Gerard's neck before planting a kiss behind his ear and then another one on his earlobe. She would have done pretty much anything for Gerard. Especially if he kept his hands on her like this.

"I'm taking you home tonight," Gerard replied, his breath brushing against a wet spot on the curve of Frankie's neck where Gerard had kissed her. It made her shiver and her knees almost gave out. She managed to stay upright with Gerard's help, grabbing his shirt while her legs still wobbled.

"I want to stay with you," she said, holding on to Gerard tighter, clinging to him, her nails digging into the small of his back through the fabric of his shirt.

He grabbed her face between his hands and planted a kiss on her lips, whispering, "I know, Frankie. And I want to be with you all the time, too."

Frankie smiled and Gerard kissed her again before they finally pulled apart.

"The thing is," he added, ducking his head and shoving his hands in his pockets. "I don't trust myself not to touch you all the fucking time, not when you're sleeping in the room above mine, not when you're coming out of the shower in your fucking underwear and your tiny transparent t-shirts. You're so fucking beautiful and I can't help but want to touch you. I just want to do stuff to you all the time and I can't, and it feels like fucking torture to me. I'm sure it's not that great for you either."

Gerard had spoken so fast, barely even pausing to breathe, that Frankie wasn't sure she had heard right. All her brain had managed to register was that Gerard said she was beautiful and that alone, made her happy.

Frankie grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand out of his pocket and linked their fingers together before stealing a kiss from him, her lips touching his for only a second.

"You can touch me whenever you want," Frankie grinned, hoping Gerard would grin back.

He didn't though. He just looked at her, all serious and shook his head.

"You know what I mean, Frankie. You're driving me insane. I think about you when I should be doing other things. Working, studying, watching TV. I think about kissing you and touching you and fucking you when I'm painting and I end up putting little pieces of you in everything I do."

"I'm sorry?" Frankie said although she wasn't sure there was anything wrong with Gerard wanting to kiss and touch and fuck her all the time. She felt the same way about him, and it was good to be wanted, to be really seen for once in her life.

"It's not necessarily a bad thing though. You're kind of my muse," Gerard said with a smile.

Frankie had never been anyone's muse before. She pressed herself closer to Gerard, her body pushing his against the fence as she started planting kisses everywhere on his face.

"So, I guess you're not mad at me anymore," Gerard laughed.

The bell rang in the distance and Frankie realized they were alone under the bleachers. No one was watching them now, not even Alicia or Bob or Mikey who were already walking away from the lawn and into the building.

"Oh, I am fucking furious, you dick," she said, pushing him hard and pinning him down against the fence to kiss the shit out of him. She tilted his head back and licked a long strip on his exposed neck before worrying his bottom lip with her teeth.

"I thought so," Gerard gasped and Frankie kissed him again, rushed but deep and kind of mind-blowing, too, before they headed off to class, holding hands as they ran to catch up with their friends.

  
*

  
It was dusk when Gerard parked in Frankie's driveway, right behind her mom's car, their bumpers dangerously close to one another. He turned off the engine, and Frankie took off her seat belt, her fingers clinging to it for just a little while longer.

The light outside the front porch was on, and Frankie could see a silhouette behind the living room window, pacing. Her mom was waiting for her. She probably had an entire speech ready. Something long and kind of boring that would end in Frankie being sent to a boarding school, maybe in Alaska, maybe on Mars, definitely somewhere far away from Gerard.

Frankie turned to look at Gerard and he was staring at the house, his fingers nervously drumming on the wheel. Then, he looked into Frankie's eyes and asked, "You gonna be okay?"

He gave Frankie a crooked smile and took her hand in his, leaning forward to plant a kiss right there, between her knuckles, his lips soft, trailing up her wrist.

"I guess," Frankie said, unconvincingly just as Gerard let go of her hand and shifted back into his seat, taking off his seatbelt.

Frankie didn't want to get out of the car. Not yet. She didn't want to fight with her mom. She didn't want to hear all the hurtful things she had in store for her. She just wanted to stay where she was, her fingers still clenched around the seatbelt, her nails digging into her palm.

"Cause I could, you know, come with you. For moral support or whatever," Gerard proposed, and Frankie definitely considered it for a minute. She always felt safer when Gerard was around. "I could hold your hand?"

Frankie smiled as she finally let go of her seatbelt and grabbed Gerard's hand. His fingers were warm and his palm was sweaty. She pulled it onto her lap and stroke it with her thumb, gently.

As much as she loved holding Gerard's hand, even when it was sweaty, it was a stupid idea to drag him along into her family drama. Her mom would probably throw an even bigger tantrum if she saw Gerard anywhere near Frankie.

"Thanks, G. but I don't think that's such a good idea," she said as she let go of Gerard's hand, Gerard's fingers sliding along hers. "My mom thinks holding hands is kinda like foreplay."

Frankie leaned over to give Gerard a kiss. Her mom was probably watching but Frankie didn't care. She wanted one last kiss, just in case it was actually the last one she would ever get from him.

Gerard didn't seem like he was really into it though as he sat still, his eyes glued to the house again as if he was afraid Frankie's mom was going to storm out of there and kick his ass. He did hum though and licked at Frankie's open lips, distractedly.

Frankie grunted, slipping a hand into Gerard's hair and pulling on it just a little and Gerard leaned into the kiss, finally closing his eyes and mumbling something that sounded like "Sorry," against her mouth. Frankie caressed his thigh with her other hand, lazily scraping her fingernails against the fabric of his pants while he was making these tiny noises in his throat, like he was trying to say something but couldn't remember how to form actual words. He whimpered and moaned as Frankie tugged on his hair and on the hem of his shirt, pressing herself closer until she was almost sitting in his lap.

By the time they pulled apart, it was night outside. It was probably for the best, because the neighbors were nosy motherfuckers who liked their juicy scandals. _The Iero girl was having sex in a car right in front of her parents' house!_ Frankie could already hear, the voice in her head sounding a lot like Mrs Dinozzo's, the old hag who owned the dry cleaning place just a couple of blocks away and spent her days sitting outside her store on a pink plastic chair, watching people walk by and providing her rare customers with their weekly fix of gossip.

Frankie shifted back into her seat, letting her hand rest under Gerard's on his thigh and looked at her window, up there and noticed the light in her bedroom was on.

She looked down at the remains of her oak tree, just a stump and some wood chips barely visible in the dark, scattered on the unkempt lawn. Then, she saw the green glow of a lightning bug, the first of the summer, just a tiny flash that flew upwards and disappeared into the neighbor's tall bushes.

Gerard patted her hand gently, and Frankie grabbed his fingers, locking them together. Gerard's palm was still sweaty and warm, but Frankie didn't mind. She didn't want to let go of him this time.

Then, the front door opened and Frankie's mom appeared and stood there on the porch for a minute, staring at the car, squinting a little as she probably tried to get a good look of the boy who had kidnapped her daughter and turned her into a full blown delinquent. She just stood there for the longest time, smoking and staring, and it made Frankie really nervous.

"I can wait here for a little while, you know. Just in case," Gerard offered as he stared back at Frankie's mom and squeezed Frankie's fingers.

"Nah, it's alright. I can deal," Frankie replied unenthusiastically, her hand sliding off of Gerard's thigh and letting go of his hand.

"Call me as soon as you can," he whispered when Frankie turned around to grab her bag of mostly dirty laundry from the backseat. Frankie fumbled with her bag to open the door while Gerard was trying to get his piece of shit of a car to start again.

Frankie gave him a half-hearted smile and stepped out, looking back at him one last time before she muttered, "Bye, Gerard," and slammed the door shut. She didn't know if she would be able to call him. Her mom was going to take away her phone privileges first, as she always did.

The engine coughed and started after a couple of tries and Frankie walked away slowly, dragging her feet like she was walking to a certain death.

Then, she heard the car pull away from the driveway and part of her wanted to run back to Gerard more than anything. The other part just knew this had to be done, like having a tooth pulled out. It was probably going to be painfully longer, though.

When Frankie climbed up on the front porch, she looked over her shoulder and Gerard's car was already gone. She really wished he had stuck around for a little while longer.

"Frankie," her mom said in a cold and low voice, stepping aside to let Frankie in. She didn't sound too happy to see her and didn't even give her a hug.

"Hi, mom," Frankie sighed as she walked inside the house, still dragging her feet and almost stumbling down the hallway as she tripped over the doormat.

It smelled like stale smoke, but everything else was exactly the same, squeaky clean and neatly organized, just like her mom liked it.

"You hungry?" her mom asked, her voice still a little cold as she slammed the door shut behind Frankie.

Frankie shrugged. She wasn't particularly hungry and her stomach was sort of upset, probably in anticipation of the coming fight, but she asked anyway, "What do you have?"

Her mom walked to the kitchen, and Frankie followed her, sitting down at the table and dropping her backpack on the chair next to hers.

She watched as her mom browsed the content of her fridge for at least a minute. She finally turned around and said, "Leftover veggie lasagna?"

"Yeah, thanks," Frankie mumbled and her mom popped the container of lasagna into the microwave.

"I called your dad," her mom said, setting a fork and a paper napkin in front of Frankie and leaning against the table, tapping her foot on the tiled floor and staring at Frankie's backpack.

Frankie turned to look at the microwave and stared at it as the red digits counted down the seconds, painfully slow.

"Yeah?" she asked absent-mindedly, picking up the fork and prickling the pads of her fingers with it. She didn't really care what they had talked about. They hated her and they didn't want her around. They were both assholes.

"He told me what happened," her mom said, and her voice was a little softer this time. "He told me you had a fight. He was really upset about it. He said he was sorry."

 _Yeah, right_ Frankie thought just as the microwaved beeped. He didn't look sorry when he almost slapped her and called her a little shit and a bitch.

Frankie's mom stood there for a few seconds, her fingers clenching around the edge of the table and Frankie wondered if she had heard the microwave or not. Frankie cleared her throat, and her mom let go of the table. She walked to the microwave and emptied the container in a plate before setting it on the table, pushing it towards Frankie.

The melted cheese and the jumbled pile of lasagna and spinach under it didn't look too appetizing, and Frankie poked it with her fork for a few seconds, trying to find something to tell her mom other than _your lasagna looks like barf_.

"You should have came home right away, Frankie," her mom said just as Frankie tentatively shoved a piece of lasagna into her mouth. She burnt her tongue, but didn't want to spit out. She wanted to have something in her mouth so she wouldn't have to talk.

"I was worried. I called every single person we know. I even called the police."

Frankie kept her head down as she chewed, avoiding looking up at her mom as she leaned against the table again.

"I was at Gerard's," Frankie finally mumbled through a mouthful of burning lasagna. She swallowed painfully and poked the rest of the lasagna in her plate.

"I know that now," her mom said, sounding a little annoyed now. "He called me last night and told me you hadn't been kidnapped or something worse. You really should have called me."

Frankie shrugged and pushed her plate aside, turning to look out the window. She wondered where Gerard was now. Probably at home with his own mom.

Frankie looked up from her unfinished dinner and glared at her mom. "Gerard is my boyfriend and I love him."

Her mom sighed, "He told me about that too."

Frankie dropped her fork into her plate and mumbled, "I don't want to be a burden for you guys anymore."

Frankie's mom dragged a chair and sat down next to her. She tried to grab Frankie's hand but Frankie pulled it out of her reach quickly.

"Honey, you've never been a burden. Never," she said, shaking her head, her voice warmer and calm.

 _Fucking liar._

"You're just saying this 'cause you're my mom," Frankie said as her mom reached out again and grabbed her arm, patting her elbow with her cold fingers.

"No," she said, squeezing. "Why are you even saying this?"

Frank stared down at her plate for a while, the pile of lasagna getting cold as she waited for her mom to let go of her arm. When she finally did, Frankie looked up at her and pushed her plate aside.

"Why did dad leave?" Frankie asked after a long and awkward silence. "Was it because of me? Because I'm a shitty little brat? Is it because I sneaked out?"

Her mom got up, pushing her chair against the wall and said, "It's not because of you, baby. It's for grown up reasons. Stupid grown up reasons."

Frankie wanted to scream or fucking throw the lasagna in her mom's face. She clenched her teeth and took a deep breath and when she looked at her mom again, she was giving her this half smile. Then, she added, "Now, finish your lasagna before it gets cold." She sounded so condescending, as if Frankie was a fucking child. _Eat all your vegetables, brush your teeth, don't put your elbows on the table, don't pick your nose or your finger will get stuck up there._

This was all it took to make Frankie snap. She jumped up on her feet and pushed her plate away, harder than she intended to, almost sending it flying off the table. It stopped at the edge and Frankie's mom caught it and pushed it back safely on the table.

"Fuck your lasagna and fuck this _grown up_ bullshit. I'm not a moron," Frankie spat, grabbing her bag and storming out of the room, making her exit as dramatic as possible, pushing chairs and kicking the door on her way out.

"How about you quit acting like one, then?" her mom yelled behind her and Frankie ran up the stairs as fast as she could. She didn't want her mom to follow her. She just wanted to be left alone. She wanted to go to her room, shut the door, listen to very loud angry music and never ever see her mom or hear her shrill voice again.

"You've always been a bitch to dad. You made him leave by being a bitch. That's what you always do," Frankie shouted over her shoulder, throwing her backpack across the room and pushing the door behind her.

It didn't stop Frankie's mom from walking into the room though. She pushed the door open and planted her feet in the doorway, glaring at Frankie, looking furious, as if she was going to punch her or maybe even strangle her.

Frankie picked up her bag off the floor and threw it on the bed where most of its content spilled, her dirty t-shirts tangled up with her school books and her beloved comic books as well as the ones Gerard had lent her, the ones he told her she absolutely had to read, making it sound like a matter of life and death.

When she looked up from the mess, her mom was still glaring at her. Frankie took a step towards the door, wanting to push her mom out so she could close the door.

Before she even had time to reach the door, her mom walked up to her, picking up one of Frankie's hoodies on the dresser on her way there, unfolding it and folding it back neatly. Fucking OCD.

"Never talk to me that way again, you hear me? I'm your mother. You can't just talk to me like that," she rambled, her voice trembling ever so slightly.

Frankie retreated back to her bed, poking her bag absently, twisting her fingers in the straps, staring down at the books spread on the bed, one of Gerard's latest drawings sticking out of her Geometry notebook.

This one was a self portrait, something Gerard had probably slipped in Frankie's bag when she wasn't looking. The paper version of Gerard was staring back at her and grinning with his vampire teeth, blood dribbling on his chin, his long black hair hiding half of his pale and beautiful face.

Frankie felt a knot in her stomach when she turned back to face her mom again.

"You were yelling at him for the stupidest fucking reasons," she said, as calmly as she possibly could, giving her mom a defiant stare. "No wonder he left. He's better off without you. I'd be better off without you."

Her mom stood there, right in front of her, clutching to Frankie's hoodie, looking like she had a hard time breathing and swallowing, and Frankie almost felt bad for her.

That was, until her mom rushed across the room and cornered Frankie by the window, pushing her, throwing the hoodie at Frankie's face and grabbing her shoulders, her fingernails clawing at her shirt.

"You want to go live with your dad? Is that it?" she asked, her breath hot on Frankie's face, shaking her lightly.

Frankie tried to back away, but she couldn't go any further. Her shoulders hit the wall and her thigh clipped the corner of her nightstand. Frankie winced and her mom loosened her grip on her shoulders a bit. Maybe she would let Frankie go live with her dad.

She sounded pissed again though when she asked, "You want to live in his shitty little bachelor pad so you can have boys over and do whatever you want?"

Frankie shook her head. "I don't want to live with you anymore because of this kind of shit," she replied, pushing her mom back a little, gently. She didn't want to hurt her, not physically anyway. "You think I'm a slut or something. I fucking never did anything wrong. You have like, zero trust in me."

"Trust is something you earn, Frankie," her mom said, finally letting her go and taking a few steps back, towards the window. "Sneaking out of your room night after night and running away with your boyfriend is not helping your case."

Frankie collapsed on her bed, kicking off her shoes and discarding her jacket on the floor, knowing her mom would pick it up and fucking fold it. She was such a neat freak.

"Dad doesn't treat me like a fucking idiot," she muttered, ducking her head, tucking her bangs behind her ears.

"Your dad is irresponsible and he can't take care of you," her mom said as she sat down next to her. "He can barely take care of himself."

"Well, at least, he cares about _me_ ," Frankie mumbled to herself.

"You think I don't care about you? You think I'm a horrible mother?" her mom asked as she pulled Frankie's backpack towards her and started going through it, not looking up at her. She stared at the drawing of Gerard for a few seconds, running her fingers on it before putting it back inside Frankie's notebook.

"Everything I do is for you," she added after a minute. "You have clothes on your back and food and cigarettes and a _fucking_ phone."

Her mom had never used the F word in front of her before. This was definitely a special occasion.

"I work two jobs because your father can't afford child support and in the end, you don't even respect me." Her voice was trembling and her face was a little red. She covered it with her hands and Frankie bit her bottom lip hard so she wouldn't say anything hurtful.

When she removed her hands from her flushed face, she wasn't crying or anything. She didn't look really that mad anymore. She stood up again, shoving Frankie's clothes back into the bag and stayed there in front of the window for a while, not doing anything, just staring outside, her fingers clenched around the strap of Frankie's backpack.

"What did Gerard tell you?" Frankie asked after a few minutes, just as her mom walked over to the door, dragging the bag with her.

"He told me you were safe and that his mom was taking good care of you."

"Yeah?"

"He's too old for you." her mom said as she started browsing through the content of Frankie's backpack again, throwing Frankie's dirty laundry in the basket behind the door. "He's too old for you," she repeated, uselessly, stacking Frankie's books and comics on top of her dresser.

"Fuck no, he's not," Frankie protested, bouncing up on her bed, the springs squeaking under her.

"He _is_ too old but that's beside the point I'm trying to make here," she waved dismissively. "I'm not gonna let my child _date_ someone I don't know and trust."

Frankie cringed at the way her mom said the word date. She made it sound like something dirty, like she was talking about blowjobs or some other depraved or disgusting thing.

"Mom, you just can't ..." Frankie whined, getting up off her bed and following her mom as she walked over the window again. Frankie was going to date Gerard and do whatever the fuck she wanted to do with him, and her mom would just have to deal with it.

Frankie was about to whine some more and maybe stomp her foot in a fit of rage when her mom grabbed her arm and pulled her close. "I want to meet him," she declared, looking dead serious. "I want him to have dinner with us." She turned away from the window and squeezed Frankie's arm gently. "Or at least with me if you want to stay in your room forever and mope like a baby."

"What? Why?"

"You've been eating his mom's food for a week now. I might as well feed him," her mom said in a high pitched voice as she let go of Frankie's arm. "He sounded like a nice boy over the phone. Very good manners, although kind of awkward. Does he always stutter or is it something he only does when he's nervous?"

"Wait. No, he doesn't. Are you fucking kidding me?"

"No, I am definitely not kidding," her mom replied, looking as serious as she could be. She walked away from the window and added, "Now go tell him to come inside instead of lurking around like this. The neighbors are gonna think he's a pervert."

Frankie stepped in front of the window and cupped her hands over the glass pane to look outside. She couldn't see much because it was dark and the streetlights were kind of wonky in the neighborhood. She was about to give up when she noticed Gerard's dirty car parked on the other side of the street, half hidden behind a tall and bushy chestnut tree. Gerard was standing outside his car, pacing along the sidewalk, his hands buried deep inside his pockets.

  
*

  
The following week, Gerard had dinner with Frankie and her mom twice. Both times felt awkward because her mom was trying to learn every single thing about him and the dinners rapidly turning into the Spanish Inquisition.

She wanted to know if he had a job, if he had ever been arrested or even had a ticket. Then she asked him what he was planning to do for the rest of his life, and Frankie had to rescue Gerard from that one because he looked like he was about to get up from the couch and run away, his eyes pleading.

"Gerard is a very talented artist, mom," she said, beaming and hooking her arm around Gerard's. She couldn't have been more proud of her boyfriend.

Her mom huffed and made this weird face, not really disdainful but not really approving either, something in the middle and Frankie let go of Gerard's arm.

At the end of the week, Frankie's mom might not have been entirely charmed by Gerard's awkwardness, but she finally caved in and let them go out on dates, as long as someone was around to watch them and make sure they behaved. Frankie had an early curfew but she wasn't really in any position to bargain for more Gerard-time. She had to be home by ten o'clock, even on weekends, not one minute late or her mom threatened to give Gerard a _talk_ about teen pregnancy and how it was related to punctuality in some obscure way - a lecture complete with stats and slides.

Frankie was pretty sure she was kidding, but Gerard always got her home early, just in case.

They didn't do anything extravagant like dinner at the Olive Garden or some other shit and didn't really have time to go anywhere far away. Frankie didn't care about that kind of stuff anyway and Gerard seemed pretty okay that they had skipped all the fancy bullshit part of dating.

Frankie mostly just hung out at Gerard's, reading comic books, talking about monster movies, watching Gerard as he drew each and every one of them - Dracula, the creature from the black fucking lagoon and Frankenstein - on her skin with his multicolored Sharpies, night after night. Frankie's collection of fake tattoos spread on her arms, legs, stomach and back. Frankie was always sad when she had to wash them off so her mom wouldn't freak out. They were so amazing that Frankie wanted them inked on her skin forever.

On Friday, the day before the stupid Prom, Frankie invited Gerard to this awesome Boris Karloff retrospective at the theater downtown. Frankie had also called her dad the previous night and begged him to come with them. He had accepted right away because he couldn't pass on a good old monster movie, and Frankie suspected him of wanting to officially meet _the_ Gerard she was always talking about. He probably wanted a real introduction, not a quick handshake and more than a five seconds glance.

Frankie could never stay mad at her dad for too long. When he came to pick her up, Frankie hugged the shit out of him and he kissed her cheek, making it as noisy and messy as possible.

Her dad didn't seem to remember Gerard's name. Or maybe he was pretending he didn't, just to torture 'the poor bastard,' as he called him.

Gerard stuttered a little when he had to re-introduce himself, and Frankie reached behind her back to grab Gerard's hand, trying not to laugh at how adorable Gerard looked with his hair slicked back and his brand new looking pair of slacks. It seemed like he was trying too hard to impress her dad, and Frankie wanted to hug him and tell him it was useless, that everything was fine.

Her dad winked at her behind his glasses like the sneaky little weasel he was while Frankie patted Gerard's hand soothingly.

Gerard looked a little more at ease than he was with Frankie's mom, but he still looked like he was going to make a run for the nearest exit every time Frankie's dad asked him a question.

Cheech Iero usually disliked new people, but he seemed to love Gerard. He kept teasing him about everything, though, criticizing everything from his taste in popcorn seasoning to the fact that Gerard didn't know the _masterpiece_ that was The Giant Gila Monster. He probably though it was funny as hell to watch Gerard act all jittery, shifting restlessly in his seat, looking at Frankie with puppy dog eyes and hiding behind his large Coke.

It was kind of a sweet deal to have her dad chaperon them. When the previews started, he let them sit together in another row at the back so they could make out without attracting too much attention.

He also didn't say anything when Frankie kissed Gerard goodnight on his front porch for at least half an hour, reluctant to part with him and his popcorn flavored lips.

Prom night came and Frankie's dad kindly agreed to drop her off at Gerard's instead of keeping her all to himself. They only had two days a week together now that her parents had worked out a schedule, and Frankie was kind of sad that she had to cut out some dad time to have more Gerard time. It was Prom night, though, and there was no way she wasn't spending it with her boyfriend, four Bill Murray movies back to back, and a bowl of popcorn about the size of a baby elephant.

Gerard was waiting for her, sitting on the front porch, smoking and biting his nails. As soon as Frankie and her dad stepped out of the car, Gerard got up and walked up to meet them in the driveway, dropping his cigarette on the pavement.

"Hi, Mr Iero," Gerard said as he grabbed his hand and shook it vigorously. Maybe he was trying to impress Frankie's dad some more by showing he wasn't a wuss. It was probably going to work this time, because her dad hated weak handshakes more than anything else.

"Hey there, kiddo," he replied as he shook Gerard's hand. Then he turned back to Frankie and asked, "What are your plans for tonight?"

Frankie grabbed Gerard's hand and squeezed his fingers tight before announcing, "We're ditching prom to spend a night with Bill Murray."

"Sounds like fun," her dad grinned as he put a hand on Frankie's arm and squeezed her elbow, gently. "Is Bob picking you up afterwards, or do you need me to come back?" he asked, looking at Gerard as he fiddled with the cord of his hoodie, twirling it around his finger and tugging on it.

Alicia was already at the dance. Bob had picked her and Mikey up about an hour ago. Frankie had plenty of occasions to mock them when they showed up at the record store with their ridiculous formal wear, bow ties and bouquets, lame attempts at making everyone at school forget they were actually going to the prom as a fucking threesome.

Alicia looked pretty though, just like she usually did, with her black hair up in a bun and the most amazing blue silk dress that Frankie couldn't have afforded even if she had won the fucking lottery. Bob and Mikey both stared at her like she was the eighth wonder of the world, and Frankie was pretty much convinced that there was going to be some heavy petting and making out going on in the back of Bob's car at some point during the night.

"Bob's getting me on his way back from the prom," Frankie replied, giving Gerard a huge grin.

"Ok, then. Have fun and don't do anything stupid. Your mom can smell sexual activity miles away. Like one of these police dogs, but only for sex."

"See you next weekend, dad," Frankie said, letting go of Gerard to hug her dad, burying her face in his chest and smelling his familiar and comforting scent.

He patted her back soothingly and pulled away, planting a kiss on the top of her head.

She watched him drive away, Gerard's hand back in hers, before they headed inside the house.

Gerard apparently managed to get the house to himself. His parents were out on a date somewhere in New York at a fancy restaurant, and then they were going to some lame show on Broadway. Mikey was probably not going to be back before a while, not if Alicia had her way with him, so when Frankie sat down on the Ways' couch, she knew that whatever they did, there would be no interruption. They wouldn't need to be discreet or whisper.

The evening started out with Ghostbusters. They sat together comfortably in the love-seat in the Ways' living room, Frankie's hand in Gerard's and her head resting on his shoulder. Gerard did this running commentary that would have been annoying as fuck if it had been anyone else and if Frankie had never seen the movie before. He rambled for half an hour about ectoplasm, ghosts and the Jersey Devil (even though Frankie was pretty sure the Jersey Devil wasn't in the movie) while Frankie worked on giving him a hickey, nibbling and sucking on his neck noisily, occasionally pulling away to watch what was happening on the screen.

By the time the giant Stay Puft monster appeared, Frankie was sitting in Gerard's lap, not really paying that much attention to the movie anymore. She was too busy kissing Gerard's neck, licking and biting his flushed and rapidly bruising skin and shifting on top of him, moving slowly but steadily. The friction made Gerard shudder and tense under her and she could feel him getting hard every time she rubbed herself against him. She pulled away from his neck to kiss his mouth as he started panting. His tongue tasted like popcorn and Mountain Dew.

"Let's go to your room," Frankie murmured against his lips before planting a small kiss on his forehead, pushing his hair back and squirming into his lap.

"Are you sure?" Gerard asked in a deep voice, almost a groan, his breath warm against her chin. "What about the movie?" he mumbled, shuddering once again as Frankie slid off his lap.

"Yeah. Fuck the movie. They save New York City from the giant marshmallow guy and Bill Murray gets the girl," she giggled as she stood up, almost stumbling back on the couch as she pulled Gerard up.

They giggled and kissed as they walked out of the living room and stumbled downstairs to the basement, leaving the TV on and their huge bowl of popcorn on the edge of the couch, almost untouched.

It was hot and humid and it smelled like a locker room in Gerard's bedroom, but Frankie didn't mind that much anymore.

She made her way inside the room and let go of Gerard's hand, walking over to the bed and chewing on her bottom lip. The bed behind her was a tangled mess of wrinkled sheets and smelly fleece blankets, but the rest of the room looked clean, no dirty underwear lying on the carpet and no Transformers scattered around.

Frankie had never been completely naked in front of Gerard before. She had never been completely naked in front of anyone actually, not even the school nurse. She didn't like the way she looked with her clothes on, but she hated even more the way she looked when she got glimpses of her naked body in the bathroom mirror. She was too pale, too tiny, too chubby, too everything.

When Gerard closed the door, Frankie took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She pulled off her t-shirt slowly, hesitantly, and threw it on the bed behind her. She quickly combed her hair with her fingertips and wrapped her arms around her chest, trying to cover up as much skin as possible, feeling exposed, fat and ugly in the dim light coming from the window.

She opened her eyes and her stomach looked pale and fat and kind of wobbly and she was wearing the pink bra that made her breast look even tinier than they really were. She probably looked like the opposite of sexy but there wasn't anything she could do about it.

Frankie winced when Gerard turned on the light. She wished she could have stayed hidden in the shadows longer. The light was harsh, too bright for her eyes and Frankie blinked, taking a step back towards the bed.

Gerard's hand fell from the light switch almost in slow motion, and he stood there for a while, watching her from the other side of the room, looking at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. When he finally walked over to her, taking off his shirt and dropping it at his feet, Frankie took a step towards him.

He was just as pale and chubby as she was, his stomach round and his chest white and completely hairless. He was perfectly imperfect, just as she had imagined him to be. It was probably the fact that he was so flawed that made Frankie want him even more. He was perfect for her, just the way he was, not quite beautiful, not quite graceful. He was hers.

Frankie joined him somewhere between the bed and the door and wrapped her arms around his back, pulling him in for a kiss, slow and deep, his tongue dancing in her mouth and his hands cupped around her face.

Then, Gerard's hands dropped, his fingers brushing against her neck and trailing down her spine. He started fumbling with her bra, his fingers tugging at the strap while Frankie moaned and palmed at Gerard's cock through his jeans. He was hard, and she could feel him push forward to meet her every stroke.

She could tell Gerard was definitely not an expert at taking off bras. She let him struggle for a few seconds, his nails scraping at her skin as he moaned in frustration before pulling away quickly and helping him out. Well, she didn't so much help him out, as she actually took off the bra herself and let Gerard slide it off of her arms, pulling it eagerly as he pressed his lips against hers, kissing her harder than before.

Gerard dropped the bra at their feet and Frankie kicked it out of the way just as Gerard steered her towards his bed, still kissing her as she stepped back carefully, trying not to fall on her ass, because it would have ruined the mood.

Her hands were clenched around Gerard's shoulders as he leaned down and kissed her collarbone, his lips smearing down her breast, lingering as they kissed her skin, licking her nipples and nibbling on them, humming and mumbling things that didn't sound like actual words.

Frankie squeaked, and Gerard looked up from his thorough exploration to stare up at Frankie's face, grinning as he licked a pathway up to her neck. A lock of his hair brushed up against her skin and Frankie jumped a little, letting out something that sounded like a moan and a giggle at the same time. Gerard didn't giggle, though, as he seemed focused on licking every inch of Frankie's naked skin, his tongue drawing circles on the underside of her chin.

Somewhere in the middle of all the kissing, Frankie lost track of time. The next thing she knew, Gerard was grabbing her hands and sticking them behind her as he wrapped his arms around the small of her back.

They eventually made it the bed, stumbling backwards awkwardly and kissing as if their lives depended on it. They pulled apart after a little while, panting and Frankie felt a little dizzy, almost drunk from too much Gerard.

Gerard let go of her hands, and Frankie fell onto the bed gracelessly, her legs no longer carrying her.

She watched as Gerard took off his pants hastily, his briefs slipping down his ankles along with his tight jeans. He tripped and staggered as he pulled them off and threw them on his brother's bed behind him. He slid a hand over his cock, covering it before sitting down next to Frankie, shifting, looking a little ill at ease as he crossed his legs and uncrossed them again.

Gerard's cock was right there, only half hidden behind his fist. It wasn't too big nor too small, and it looked pretty nice as far as dicks went, not that Frankie really knew what a regular dick was supposed to look like. Alicia was the expert in dicks.

It was surrounded by an untrimmed forest of black pubic hair, a trail that ran from under his stomach to his inner thigh and made his skin look even paler in contrast.

Frankie smiled as she reached out and put her hand on top of Gerard's, pushing it out of the way. She needed to take a better look at it, maybe touch it, feel it under her fingers.

Gerard didn't protest and let his hands rest on his thighs. He stared down at his cock and then, turned to stare at the door, his hands clenching into fists.

Frankie wrapped her fingers around it, curious to know how it felt in her palm and Gerard squirmed into her hand, snapping his hips and gasping. The skin wasn't smooth at all. It was all rough and bumpy and hot. It was hard and veiny looking, a dark shade of pink.

"Nyargh," Gerard cried with a sharp thrust, his back arching.

Frankie looked up at Gerard's face and saw that he staring at her hand, his eyes wide and his fists twisting in the sheets, his tongue licking at his open lips.

"You don't ... You ... don't have to do this," Gerard stuttered before he sucked in a breath, and Frankie felt his dick twitch in her hand.

"I want to," Frankie replied as she started moving her hand up and down very slowly, trying to build up a rhythm. She didn't really know how to do this since she hadn't done it before, but she was pretty sure she was just supposed to move her hand up and down and wait for Gerard to come or something.

"Oh God, fuck," Gerard choked, his legs shaking and his mouth hanging open.

She leaned forward, grabbing his hair with her free hand and pulling him closer for a kiss.

Gerard groaned inside her mouth, and Frankie could feel him shiver against her, his cock sliding between her fingers, rough and dry.

She kept stroking him for a minute, but something felt off. Gerard opened his mouth and Frankie stopped her motion for a second, pulling away from him to lick her fingers. Then, she grabbed Gerard's hard on again with her spit slick fingers and gave a series of fast, eager strokes.

Gerard let out another groan, deeper and louder. His hips snapped a couple of times and he bounced up on the bed, pushing harder into Frankie's hand, the bedsprings squeaking under them.

Frankie didn't stop stroking him until her hand touched something wet. It made her hand slid more easily around the shaft. She picked up the pace again, staring at Gerard's face as he bit his lip and tilted his head back, his mouth hanging open, lopsided.

She could have done this all night, even though her wrist was starting to feel sore. She could have, but Gerard suddenly looked down at his dick and slapped Frankie's hand away. He didn't slap it too hard, though, just a little flick of his wrist as he pushed Frankie away.

Frankie frowned and tried to grab Gerard's cock again.

"No, you need to stop now," he said, his voice shaky as he backed away from her, sitting up and sliding at the other end of the bed.

"Why? Am I doing something wrong?" Frankie asked, wrapping her arms around her naked body, feeling embarrassed by her lack of handjob skills. Maybe she was so bad at it that Gerard wanted her to go away. "Am I hurting you?"

"No, no, you're perfect," he said, shaking his head vehemently and shifting back closer to her. "You're doing great. You're amazing," he panted, pushing the hair out of his face. "It's just that I won't hold much longer if you don't stop now."

He blushed a little and snaked an arm around Frankie, stroking her back with his thumb and running his knuckles up on her spine.

"Oh, shit. I'm so sorry, Gerard."

As much as she wanted to make Gerard come, she didn't want this to be over before it even started. She kind of wanted to know what it felt like to have sex; actual, full on sex.

"'t's fine." Gerard grinned as he pressed himself against Frankie and pushed her onto the bed, lying her down and pinning her to the mattress. He started kissing a trail from her neck down to her stomach, his tongue lingering on her breast, tickling her skin before stopping at the waistband of her jeans.

He looked up and gave Frankie this really mischievous look, something that Frankie wasn't used to seeing on Gerard's face, and it made her shiver.

He knelt between her legs, pulling down her pants, slowly, uncovering her skin inch by inch, her stupid thighs and her grazed up knees, her ankles.

Then, he slid a finger into the elastic of her ugly and washed out underwear and pulled it down very slowly, letting it sit around her knees for a few seconds before pulling it down all the way. "You're so beautiful," he said as he stared into her eyes, smiling before finally discarding her clothes at the foot of the bed in a bundle.

"Are you good?" he asked as he grabbed her ankles and pulled her legs apart, just a little.

Frankie nodded and ran her fingers through Gerard's hair, tugging on it and pulling Gerard down on top of her. He collapsed, his elbows anchored around her and started slithering between her legs.

"Hey," he whispered, grinning as he kissed the corner of her lips and the tip of her nose.

"Hey," Frankie repeated as she kissed him back, quick pecks on his open lips.

Gerard kept shifting on top of her, slowly, his erection pressing and sliding along Frankie's inner thigh. He kissed her, his mouth never straying too far away from hers, his tongue tasting her.

The friction felt good. Frankie could feel something building up inside her, in her stomach, in her thighs, in her chest with every thrust, every time Gerard pressed against her.

Frankie moaned and Gerard's hips jerked, his breath stuttering and then the movements stopped. Gerard pulled away slightly and whispered against Frankie's mouth in a low, hoarse voice, "I have condoms."

"Yeah," Frankie replied under her breath and Gerard levered himself up.

Gerard wasn't really heavy but Frankie was starting to feel kind of claustrophobic under him. She let out a heavy sigh as soon as he moved, his skin, slick, rubbing over hers, his weight no longer pinning her down to the bed. She rolled onto her side and pulled Gerard's Batman sheets on top of her naked body. Then, she sat up and watched as Gerard rolled down the bed and searched through his nightstand, digging up a small box of condoms out of the clutter of action figures, comic books, packs of Marlboros and lighters. There was also a collection of miniature bottles of alcohol in there: vodka, whiskey, gin, a little bit of everything, the kind you get in hotel mini bars or airplanes. They clinked together as he shut the drawer, holding the box of Trojans up with a victorious grin.

Frankie giggled because Gerard was a fucking dork, the way he was beaming at her, his tiny teeth exposed, his stupid hair flopping over his face, looking like a cartoon character or something out of a Japanese manga.

He sat down close to her and examined the box for a few seconds, turning it in his hands as if he was looking for instructions before taking one out of the box. He tried to open it with his fingers but ended up using his teeth on the unwilling plastic wrapper, groaning in frustration. He looked so focused on the task at hand, his tongue sticking out and his hands steady as he rolled the condom onto his cock. When he was done, he tossed the box on the pile of clothes by the bed and crawled back on top of Frankie, pulling the sheets down and kicking them to the end of the bed.

He kissed her and pulled away to ask once again, "Are you good?" Then he knelt between Frankie's thighs and proceeded to stroke her stomach, lazily, the pad of his fingers tracing patterns around her navel.

Frankie let out a content sigh and whispered, "I'm good." Her stomach clenched and it seemed like everything she felt was Gerard's fingers on her, tickling her; that the rest of her body wasn't there anymore; that every nerve under her skin was only feeling Gerard and only him.

Gerard smiled and leaned over to kiss her once more, his tongue twisting around hers.

Frankie squirmed under him, her thigh rubbing against his erection and Gerard shuddered and jerked back. He tore his mouth off of hers and whispered something against her chin, something that sounded like her name accompanied by a string of curses, all muttered against her skin, his breath hot and wet.

"Are you good?" Frankie asked, but Gerard didn't answer. He bit his bottom lip hard and pulled away just enough to slide a hand between them.

Frankie felt his fingers between her thighs, just a few light strokes, just enough to make her squeal and tilt her head back, cocking it to the side and burying her face in the pillow.

Gerard's skilled fingers disappeared and Frankie stopped breathing. She waited, her heart racing in her chest, watching as Gerard shifted, his hair in his face. She felt his cock pressing and pushing her open.

Frankie had heard things about first times. Alicia told her it always hurt and that there was a good chance Frankie would hate it. Frankie wasn't expecting anything great even though she really wanted her first time with Gerard to be absolutely perfect, 'something special,' as they say in stupid romantic movies. She knew it was going to hurt but she wasn't expecting it to hurt this much.

When Gerard slid inside her, very slowly, it felt like all the oxygen had left her lungs. She choked and tensed around Gerard's cock, making the first thrust so painful that she let out a strangled cry and closed her eyes, trying to breathe through the pain. It hurt like hell and Frankie had to dig her nails into the mattress and clench her teeth so she wouldn't scream or tell Gerard to stop. She didn't want him to stop.

"Try to relax," Gerard whispered, nibbling on her chin and sliding out of her, excruciatingly slowly.

Frankie took a couple of deep breaths before Gerard slid back inside her, slower but deeper. The pain was still there but this time, it was bearable. Gerard was careful and he was moving very slowly, each thrust followed by a kiss or by a soothing caress on her arm or her face.

Then Gerard picked up a faster pace, his thrusts shallow and Frankie whined, her hands clasping at the sheets under her, twisting them around her wrists and biting into the pillow.

"Are you okay? Am I hurting you?" Gerard asked pulling almost all the way out and stroking Frankie's cheek, pushing her hair away from her eyes and planting a kiss under her eye.

"I'm," she gasped, choking on the heavy air that floated inside the room. "I'm okay."

"Ok," Gerard whispered before he shoved his tongue down her throat, kissing her hard and slow while he was sliding in and out of her again, just as careful as before.

It wasn't as good as Frankie imagined it would be. She couldn't really feel anything pleasant since her brain was only focused on the pain. She was also thinking about how she sucked in bed and that Gerard would probably dump her as soon as this horrible attempt at sex was over.

Gerard seemed to be enjoying himself though, his face flushed, his mouth hanging open and the longer strands of his hair dangling in his face as he thrust faster, deeper and finally harder. He kept kissing Frankie everywhere, her neck, her lips, her chin, nibbling on her skin and making these desperate sounds, moaning and panting as he held Frankie down, his fingers tight around her wrists.

Then he started moving a little slower and his hips stuttered. He opened his eyes and stared down at Frankie while he was moving inside her, his rhythm erratic, more chaotic than before. He groaned and cried her name before collapsing back on top of her, trembling, breathless as he kissed her, biting and sucking on her shoulder and her collarbone.

Frankie lay still for a moment, Gerard's cock still deep inside her, filling her up. She could feel it, the blood pulsating through it with the beat of Gerard's heart, and it didn't hurt at all anymore. It actually felt pretty good, and it felt even better when Gerard pulled out, so slowly, his cock rubbing against her clit as he slid out of her, making her squeak and squirm and arch her back. She dug her fingernails into the fleshy part of Gerard's hip to keep him where he was just a little longer and bit her bottom lip, so hard her teeth almost pierced the skin.

"Yeah?" Gerard asked as he backed away, Frankie's fingers scratching, sliding off of his skin as he knelt at the end of the bed and pulled the condom off with a concerned look.

"Mmmm," Frankie hummed sleepily in approval and rolled over to her side, curling up in a ball, her arms wrapped around her knees. She wasn't sure what he was asking her because her brain wasn't really working properly. She thought a hum would probably be the best course of action and Gerard didn't look like he needed a more thought-out answer.

She watched Gerard as he aimed for the trashcan by his desk and threw the condom, missing his target only by a few inches. Frankie giggled and Gerard grumbled as he got up, rushing over to the trashcan which was already overflowing with crumpled paper, aborted sketches and paint smeared paper towels, its usual content.

Frankie could have looked away, but she decided to stare at his ass, his tiny and pale butt cheeks shaking as he walked away. He turned around when he reached the trashcan and gave Frankie an annoyed look as he picked up the used condom and dumped it in the middle of a pile of tissues.

"You know, we're totally a cliché now," he said as he crashed onto the bed and lay down next to Frankie, wrapping his arms around her, holding her in a tight embrace.

"What?"

"Sex on prom night," Gerard laughed, his warm breath brushing up Frankie's neck.

He pulled away, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling, a lopsided grin on his face. "It's the cliché to end all clichés. We should have boycotted that part, too."

Frankie punched his shoulder and muttered, "Shut the fuck up, asshole. I hate you."

"Ow," Gerard mouthed, rubbing his shoulder and looking overly offended. He wasn't very convincing though, his tiny smirk a dead giveaway. He rolled back onto his side, facing Frankie once again and whispered in her ear, "I love you too." Then he kissed her neck, his lips wet against her burning skin, his fingers latched onto her shoulder, stroking her and pulling her close.

Frankie pulled the sheets on top of them, above their heads and hooked one of her legs around Gerard's back, her hands on Gerard's chest, petting him.

It was hot under there and it smelled strongly of sweat, and she could feel Gerard's cock against her thigh, poking, sliding up and down her leg as she pushed closer to Gerard.

Then, they stopped moving completely and stayed lying there for a little while, hiding underneath the sheets, cuddling and kissing sluggishly, tangled up in each other.

When Gerard tore the sheets off the bed and tossed them at the foot of the bed, Frankie shifted and squirmed until she was lying on top of him, her breast pressed on his stomach and her lips smearing on his chest, licking at the tiny beads of sweat here and there, the taste of salt prickling her tongue.

"I'm glad we didn't go to that stupid thing," Gerard sighed before he reached out to grab his pack of smokes on the nightstand. He knocked over his lighter and an empty can of Coke that was probably there for decorative purposes, since Frankie had seen it sitting there under a thin layer of dust for the past month. Gerard didn't pick it up and watched it as it rolled up to the edge of the table and stopped there.

"I'm kind of glad we didn't go and did this instead," Frankie smiled, her toes curling as she stretched out, lying flat on top of Gerard before wrapping her arms around his waist and clinging to him like a giant squid.

She felt so comfortable in Gerard's bed and on top of him that she could have fallen asleep right there, in spite of the smell of sweat and the fact that it was starting to get really hot in the room. She shut her eyes and listened to the sounds Gerard made as he lit his cigarette, the lighter clicking in rhythm with the sound of his heart beating and of his heavy breathing. The rest of the world around them remained oddly silent. No bird chirping outside the window, no footsteps around the house, just the distant but strangely soothing buzzing of the air conditioner upstairs.

"Did you ever do this before?" Frankie asked, opening her eyes again just as Gerard was taking the first drag on his cigarette, his eyes blinking shut for a moment, a blissful expression on his face.

"What?" Gerard asked when he opened his eyes again, blowing the smoke from the corner of his lips and taking another deep drag.

"You know. Sex," Frankie replied, looking up at Gerard and grinning at him. She just had sex. She didn't feel that much different, but she knew she was. To some extent. Maybe people were going to notice she was different. Maybe her mom would know. She would smell it on her or see it in her eyes or the way she talked.

"I'm not telling you," he said, choking a little as he blew the smoke right in her face.

Frankie pouted, nudging Gerard with her chin, and he stuck the cigarette between her lips, as if he was trying to get her to shut up.

"Why?" she mumbled, the cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth, tiny ashes scattering on Gerard's pale chest.

Gerard brushed them off with a sigh.

Frankie took a drag on the cigarette and rolled off of Gerard and onto her back. She stared at the ceiling, its blotches of white paint and uneven brush strokes, the cigarette still stuck between her lips. There was a stain right above Gerard's bed that she hadn't noticed before. It looked like a face or maybe a big potato-shaped monster. She looked at it for a minute, making up a story about how the monster would one day come to life and bite Gerard's head off, or maybe turn Mikey into a zombie or something fun like that.

She turned to Gerard again and grinned at him wide, and poked his side with her index finger. "Why won't you tell me?"

He squirmed away and said, "'Cause I'm not telling you," as he ran his fingers up and down her arm.

"Was it with a girl or a dude?" Frankie asked, giggling and handing the cigarette back to Gerard.

"I'm not answering that either," he grumbled as he took his smoke and stuck it on top of the Batmobile-shaped ashtray on his nightstand, the one Frankie got him for his birthday.

Frankie climbed back up on top of him and started kissing, biting and sucking a path up from his navel to his chin, looking up at him as she grazed his skin with her teeth. "Yes you will," she groaned, her hand slithering down Gerard's stomach, rubbing against the rough patch of hair that trailed down to his cock.

"I'm gonna kiss you now and you're gonna shut up," Gerard declared, stroking the back of her thighs and hoisting Frankie up to give her a sloppy kiss, his fingers clenching around her hips.

Frankie pulled away, flipping Gerard off and blowing a raspberry at him. He was a jerk and she wasn't going to shut up just because he wanted her to.

Gerard smiled at her and Frankie huffed at him before putting her head back onto his chest, closing her eyes and stroking his sides, dragging her knuckles over his ribs and his waist. "You're a jerk, Gerard Way," she sighed, and Gerard wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight.

She was pretty sure she didn't fall asleep more than a few seconds. When she opened her eyes, Gerard was still smoking in silence, hopefully, the same cigarette, one of his hands still resting on the small of her back.

Frankie blinked and scanned the bedroom for a moment, looking for Gerard's paintings, but they were all missing. His triptych was gone, along with some of the latest drawings he had done of her and the series of zombie sketches that usually hung on the wall by his desk.

"Where's your triptych?" Frankie asked, lifting her head up and hooking her chin on Gerard's chest.

"Finished," Gerard replied, leaning over to kiss her eyelids. "And sent." Another kiss on the tip of her nose and Gerard put his head down on the pillow again.

"Cool," Frankie said, plucking the cigarette from Gerard's fingers. She took a drag on it and placed it between Gerard's lips. She squirmed her way up Gerard's body, her knee rubbing against his thigh and her clit brushing up against his stomach. Frankie shuddered and looked up at Gerard, smiling hopefully. "When do you hear from SVA?"

"I kind of already did," Gerard replied on exhale.

"What did they say?" Frankie asked as she sat up into his lap, straddling Gerard and pinning him down onto the bed, her fingers firmly clutched around his wrists.

"I got in," he replied with a coy smile, struggling weakly under her. "They said I had an interesting, yet weird mind. I'm not sure that's a compliment."

"Of course it is, you weirdo," Frankie replied excitedly as she bounced up and down Gerard's lap. "That's awesome. Why didn't you tell me?" Frankie whined, loosening her grip on Gerard's wrist a little.

Gerard grinned and laced his fingers with Frankie's. "I got the letter this morning and we were kind of busy having sex. I didn't want to ruin the mood."

Frankie ground and muttered, "Asshole." Then she shifted on top of Gerard again, feeling restless but kind of turned on by the friction of their naked and sweat-slick bodies.

"Are you hard again?" Frankie asked, palming at Gerard's crotch, tentatively.

When she looked up at his face, he was biting his bottom lip and his eyes were shut. Frankie squeezed his cock and Gerard opened his eyes. He sighed and replied, "Yeah. Kinda."

Frankie gave his cock a tug and Gerard pushed inside her hand with a muffled groan. "God."

"Are you supposed to be hard again after less than five minutes?" she asked him in a whisper, letting go of his dick and crawling back onto the bed, kneeling beside him.

Gerard looked down at his cock and grabbed it in his fist, rubbing his thumb over the tip. He looked up at Frankie and gave her a lopsided grin.

"Yeah, I don't know. It's never done that before."

Frankie giggled, because it was kind of flattering and adorable and hot, everything at the same time.

"Wanna do it again?" she proposed, still giggling and wriggling over the edge of the bed, her ankles tangling up in the pile of sheets that hung there.

She sat up on her heels and watched as Gerard's eyes widened. He was beaming like a motherfucker when he finally nodded and rolled out of bed. Frankie had never seen anyone move this fast before. She muffled another giggle, biting the inside of her cheek as Gerard knelt down on the linoleum floor to grab the box of condoms that sat on top of a pile of wrinkled clothes that mostly belonged to Frankie.

He got up and sat down by Frankie's side, the grin on his face replaced by the same expression of extreme concentration he had when he painted. He struggled with the wrapper once again but managed to get it to open much faster this time. He rushed to take the condom out and dumped the box back where it was, in the middle of the pile of clothes.

Frankie sat up and laid a hand on his thigh, stroking it as Gerard rolled the condom onto his cock. Then, he turned to Frankie and toppled her over onto the bed, kissing her mouth eagerly and crawling on top of her, hooking his knees between her thighs, spreading her open.

Gerard bit his bottom lip as he rubbed his cock against Frankie's navel and downwards, teasing her like the asshole he was. He pushed inside her after a few seconds, slow and careful, sliding deeper inch by inch as Frankie tensed, her stomach clenching.

"Frankie," Gerard hitched in a breath, his head tilted back and his neck exposed.

When he started moving inside her, sliding in and almost all the way out before pushing inside again, taking his time to find his rhythm, Frankie had to refrain from screaming.

The sex was amazing this time. The pain was still there but it was muted, something distant, overwhelmed by the endless waves of pleasure that crashed onto Frankie, choking her, making her beg and scream and squirm, making her feel like she was going insane and like she was about to die, everything at once.

She grabbed Gerard's neck and pulled him down to her mouth, kissing him, sucking on his tongue and trying not to bite it off just as Gerard gave a hard push, one that left Frankie breathless and clouded up her vision.

Gerard started moving a little faster as soon as Frankie broke the kiss, his skin sliding on hers, sweaty and hot, making wet noises that could have been funny as shit if Frankie wasn't about to die of an ecstasy-induced heart attack.

She fisted Gerard's back and clutched helplessly at his skin, her breath shallow and labored.

With the next thrust, Gerard looked like he was about to explode. His face was red, and beads of sweat were rolling along the underside of his jaw and his neck. His teeth were clenched, almost to the point of breaking.

Frankie pushed against him harder, her back arching to meet his next thrust. Gerard's rhythm became a little more sloppy and Frankie dug her nails deeper in his tender and chubby hips, pulling him down, a little desperate for more.

Thankfully, Gerard delivered, ramming into her with one vicious push, sinking so deep and so fast that Frankie whined and tensed, her hips snapping one last time.

When she came, Frankie saw stars. Not actual fucking stars, but more like tiny black spots, flying up on the ceiling. Two more pushes, and Frankie was biting her tongue, her entire body shaking and her toes curling.

Gerard thrust again and again, rubbing against her over-sensitized clit and Frankie shuddered and squeezed Gerard's arms. She needed him to come his brains out now or maybe change position because she was starting to get cramps and her stomach and thighs were kind of sore, too.

"Can we switch?" she asked after a minute, petting the back of Gerard's neck while he was busy nibbling on her knee, the movement of his hips steady.

"Nghragh?" was Gerard's only reply and it happened to sound more like a question. His body undulated and shuddered before the thrusts came to a temporary halt.

Gerard looked like he was about to swallow his own tongue when he slid out of her and grabbed her hips, pulling her on top of him like she didn't weigh a thing. He fell back onto the bed and stared at her with blown pupils, his lips open and slick with spit.

Frankie landed halfway up his chest and swayed, trying to get comfortable as she crawled her way down to sit in Gerard's lap. She stayed there for a few seconds, Gerard's cock squished under her and shoved her tongue down Gerard's throat, greedy and needy. The kiss was kind of fantastic and messy and all that jazz, but Frankie had to pull away so she could start to move, just to get some friction.

Gerard winced and buried his face in the pillow, biting and drooling all over it, tiny stifled groans coming out of his mouth.

Frankie levered herself up, her knees digging into the mattress on either side of Gerard and lowered herself down again.

Gerard grabbed his cock and guided it in, rubbing the tip between Frankie's thighs, each stroke sending some kind of electric surge down her spine, something so intense she could feel her entire body vibrate, as if she was about to snap or pop or whatever the fuck.

Frankie pushed down and Gerard pressed the tip of his cock inside her. She slid down, smoothly and so very slowly, letting gravity do its work before starting to rock back and forth, faster and faster, her head tilted back and her hands around Gerard's hips, pinning him down onto the mattress, the springs squeaking loudly with every move she made.

When Frankie looked down at Gerard, his eyes were closed and his lips were open, silent words flowing out of them.

She didn't go slow and she didn't want to stop, not even for one second. She bounced up and down and ground harder with each thrust, Gerard moaning and crying under her, clasping at her thighs, his fingers sliding on her slick skin, pinching her, bruising her.

After that, neither of them lasted much longer. Frankie wasn't really expecting to come a second time, not so soon anyway and she was a little surprised when her stomach tensed, another orgasm building up in her guts, the ecstasy slowly consuming her. She bent backwards and moaned, deep inside her throat, and then she was gone. She came so hard that her brain stopped functioning. Everything stopped. Everything but the movements, Gerard pushing inside her relentlessly.

Gerard was strangely quiet when he came this time. He let out a single groan, thrusting inside Frankie a couple more times, his hips stuttering. Then, he lay completely still, his chest barely moving.

"Wow," Frankie said as she draped herself on Gerard. Every muscle in her body was sore. Even the ones she didn't know she had.

"Wow," Gerard echoed, breathing heavily against her wet skin.

Frankie was burning up. She was drenched in sweat and her skin stuck to Gerard's. She stayed there, straddling him, his cock still inside her for maybe a minute before she finally pulled away, squirming and lifting her hips in an ultimate effort.

Gerard slid out of her, slowly, tossing the condom aside, not even bothering to throw it in the trashcan. He let out a sigh and his arm fell limp on the bed.

Frankie lay back down on top of him, her head resting onto his chest, listening to his heart racing, pounding loudly.

Frankie didn't want to fall asleep, because it was already late and they needed to get back to the TV and to their movies before Bob, Mikey and Alicia showed up. She also wanted to stay awake and make out with Gerard and maybe have sex with him one more time if he was still up for it, maybe something quick before they had to get dressed. When she closed her eyes, it was supposed to be for a couple of seconds, maybe a minute, just a power nap to recover.

When she woke up though, she had a strange feeling that hours had passed. Her brain was foggy and she had a bad taste in her mouth. She probably had morning breath too, something really horrible she didn't want Gerard to be exposed to.

When she looked up at him, he was fast asleep under her, one arm limp at his side, the other curled up under his pillow and a blissful expression on his face. He had some dried up drool on his cheek and his neck was covered in hickeys, his arms bearing scratch marks that Frankie didn't remember giving him.

Frankie slithered off of Gerard to grab his pack of smokes on the nightstand, glancing at the alarm clock that sat at the foot of the bed, half hidden under it. Surely, tobacco would have hidden the foul taste in her mouth, like something had crawled inside it to die.

She dropped the cigarettes back on the nightstand when she took notice of the time.

It was already one in the fucking morning. A quick count in her head and she realized her power nap had lasted more than two and a half hours. She was pretty much screwed, in every possible way.

Her mom would never let her go anywhere ever again. She was already past her curfew, the 'special Prom night curfew', one time only offer her mom had granted her. She could already hear her mom lecture her in her shrill voice, "give them an inch and they'll take a mile."

Bob, Alicia and Mikey fucking Way should have been back from the stupid Prom already. Maybe they were on their way back now and they were going to walk in on Frankie when she was was naked and sweaty and had a naked Gerard between her legs. This was bound to be embarrassing, even though having sex with Gerard was definitely worth every second of embarrassment and every punishment her mom would bestow upon her.

She shifted and started shaking his shoulder, gently at first, as he hummed in his sleep. "G?"

He grumbled and rolled onto his side and then onto his stomach, shoving his face into the pillow as he turned away from Frankie.

"G. Wake up." Frankie spoke a little louder, shook Gerard a little harder, forcing him to roll over onto his side again.

It took him a few seconds, but Gerard finally opened his eyes. At first, he looked really confused, frowning and scanning his surroundings as if he had no idea where the fuck he was and why there was a naked girl in his bed, sweaty and wrapped around his back. Then, his lips curved into a smile and he whispered in a raspy voice, "Hey."

Frankie leaned closer over Gerard's shoulder and gave him a small kiss, her lips pressing against Gerard's for only a few seconds before she pulled away. She planted a kiss on his chin and on his flushed cheeks, her hands stroking his stomach, her fingers twisting in Gerard's pubic hair.

She was about to grab Gerard's cock and give him some sort of 'good morning' handjob when she heard a door slam somewhere inside the house. Her stomach leaped as she sat up, letting go of Gerard and wrapping her arms around her naked body, trying to cover up as much as she could before grabbing the bed sheets and pulling them off the floor.

"Oh shit," Gerard hissed, flapping his hands as he rolled onto his back and levering himself up on his elbows, trying to sit up.

There were familiar voices upstairs talking and giggling. Frankie didn't make out the actual words but one of the voices sounded just like Alicia's.

"Holy mother of fuck." Then, Frankie entered full blown panic mode. She dropped the sheets onto the bed and frantically went in search of her underwear. Of course, it wasn't were she had left it. Of course, her bra was on the other side of the room. She sat at the edge of the bed and picked up her jeans, holding them tight against her chest as she tried to locate her panties and her stupid t-shirt. When, she turned around to look at Gerard, he just sat there, motionless, his eyes big and his hands clenched into fists.

There was another sound, a loud bang, probably another door closing and the voices were gone. Frankie stopped breathing and listened, waiting, her heart racing while Gerard was sitting perfectly still behind her.

A minute passed and Frankie relaxed a little, dropping her jeans into her lap.

"We better get dressed," she said just as Gerard wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back into bed, kissing her neck and fondling her breasts, one of his hands trailing down her stomach.

"No, we don't. We have time," he whispered in the raspy sex voice that made Frankie flail.

They really didn't have time though. Not for what Gerard had in mind. He slipped a wet hand between her thighs and less than a minute later, there was another sound; the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, loud like a fucking stampede and then, more laughs.

"Are you naked in there?" Alicia shouted, her voice coming from the hallway.

"Shit," Frankie gasped and Gerard quickly let go of her. "Did you lock the door?" she asked, throwing her jeans onto the bed and looking for the rest of her fucking clothes. She needed underwear. She needed a fucking shirt. She needed to hide under the bed or in the fucking closet.

Gerard's eyes widen and he jumped out of bed, almost stepping on the discarded condom that sat there at the foot of the bed as he rushed towards the door. His cock, which happened to be hard again, dangled between his legs as he ran, his hair a fucking mess, his skin covered in sweat and bruises and dried up spit. He was about to reach the door when it flung open right in front of him.

Mikey Way stood there for maybe a few seconds but it seemed much longer than that. His eyes quickly moved from Gerard to Frankie and then back to Gerard, a vacant expression on his usually already vacant face.

"Oh my fucking God, penis," Mikey screamed in a high pitched voice. "Penis!" He gave Frankie this really weird look, a look that probably meant, I saw you naked. I totally just saw you naked. Boobies! Girlparts!.

Frankie scrambled to her feet and wrapped herself in the discarded sheets, covering her body just as Gerard pushed the door closed and pressed his back against it.

"You could have fucking knocked, you idiot," Gerard as he stood there with his back to the door, hiding his boner behind his hands.

Mikey screamed from behind the door, his voice almost drowned by the sound of Alicia and Bob laughing like fucking idiots. "I'm blind! I've been blinded by the penis! Blinded!"

Gerard took a deep breath before rushing back to the bed, picking up his clothes off the floor along with Frankie's, pulling her t-shirt and her panties from under the bed and dropping them in her lap.

Behind the door, Mikey was still wailing, "I'm scarred for life," and Frankie couldn't help but snort as she stumbled into her jeans.

 

*

 

Gerard's car was parked along the curb, packed with cardboard boxes and bags of clothes, comic books and pretty much everything Gerard owned that could fit in the trunk or the back seat. Everything except a couple of sketchbooks with bald vampires penciled on the cover that Frankie had managed to sneak under her hoodie while Gerard was busy shoving his belongings into trash bags. CDs, socks, paintbrushes - Gerard threw everything together carelessly.

Frankie didn't want to steal anything from him but she really wanted to have something that was his, something she could look at and touch when she missed him too much.

The car was partially blocking Frankie's driveway, not that it really mattered because, even though her mom was supposed to go grocery shopping at some point during the afternoon, the chances of her leaving the house while Frankie was lying on the front lawn, smoking and snuggling with her boyfriend were slim to none. She was probably lurking somewhere around the house, watching their every move from a window, ready to storm out of the house and separate them at the first sign of inappropriate touching.

"You think your mom will let you come over next weekend?" Gerard asked, momentarily tearing his eyes away from a shapeless cluster of clouds to give Frankie a hopeful look.

"Maybe," she replied unconvincingly, grabbing a hold of Gerard's hand in the grass and petting it lazily with her thumb.

There was about a chance in a million her mom would let her go to New York by herself. There was about a chance in a trillion she would let her spend the night with her nineteen year old boyfriend in his dorm room.

"Maybe?" Frankie repeated, once more with a little less feeling, giving Gerard a small smile and a gentle pat on the wrist.

Gerard seemed satisfied with the answer as he went back to staring at the clouds.

Frankie let go of his hand and watched him for a little while, rolling onto her stomach and hooking one of her legs with his, her knee rubbing up against his thigh as she slipped closer, just a few inches, close enough to feel the warmth seeping through Gerard's denim jacket.

The grass was a little wet under her, making her old Danzig t-shirt stick to her skin. It had been raining all week -- what a fucked up Jersey summer it was shaping up to be -- and Frankie probably should have avoided the lawn altogether. She should have picked somewhere dryer, maybe her room, although her mom would have disapproved. Her bed was too small for the two of them anyway, and they couldn't smoke inside the house.

Gerard didn't seem to mind getting a little wet. He lay still, his eyes unfocused, his head nested in the tall blades of grass, his hair clamped to his cheeks and his temples.

When the sun pierced through the clouds, Gerard closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. He reached out to touch Frankie, his hand brushing up against her side, fingers clasping at her t-shirt until they found her hip and rested there, tangled up in the hem of her shirt.

As cheesy as it sounded, Frankie couldn't believe how fucking lucky she was to have Gerard in her life. Every time he touched her, her heart felt like it was about to pop right out of her chest. Every single time. She wasn't sure how she was going to deal with not seeing his face every single day or going to punk rock shows with him or to Warped Tour, holding his hand, sharing a cigarette or a beer, making out at the movies while Frankie's dad was 'chaperoning' them.

It was going to be the worst summer of her life, followed by the worst school year of her life. Bob was going away to college, too, and Alicia was hanging out with Mikey and his friends more and more often now that they were officially dating.

"You're gonna meet awesome chicks there. Chicks who actually know how to play fuckin' D&D," Frankie pondered, picking a blade of grass and flicking it up and down Gerard's arm, brushing it up against his wrist and the inside of his elbow.

Gerard opened his eyes and his fingers let go of her shirt, trailing up her spine and the back of her neck. He stroke her chin with his knuckles before grabbing Frankie's hand, forcing her to drop the blade of grass as he laced their fingers together.

"I already have an awesome chick here, and I don't care that she doesn't know shit about D&D."

"Bullshit," Frankie said as she rolled onto her back.

She pulled her t-shirt down to cover her belly where Gerard had drawn a couple of birds. They were swallows according to him. The ink was all smudged now and the birds were a little deformed but Frankie wanted to keep them a little longer. She didn't want her mom to see them though because Gerard wasn't allowed to touch any part of her body that wasn't her hands or her face. Anything underneath her t-shirt or below the waist was a no Gerard's land; as far as her mom was concerned anyway.

"After all," she added after a little while. "D&D is serious business." Frankie gave her best shot at a Gerard impression, using pretty much the same voice she used for her dad. It ended up not sounding anything like either of them.

"I guess I could teach you," Gerard said, not sounding pissed off at all. "I still think you'd make a really awesome dwarf." He gave her a smug grin, and Frankie kicked him in the shin.

"What? Not my fault you're pocket-sized," he chuckled, pushing the hair away from his face and rolling onto his side.

"Your mom," Frankie muttered, flipping him off and pouting, trying hard to feign outrage.

Gerard giggled, probably not buying her act, and leaned forward to plant a small kiss on her cheek. Nothing too steamy. Just a noisy peck under her eye accompanied by a tiny squeeze of her hand, and he was pulling away. He was probably aware that Frankie's mom was watching them from the living room window now. Frankie had caught a glimpse of her, hiding behind the ugly beige curtain. Her mom failed spectacularly at being sneaky. It was probably a family trait.

"Speaking of your mom," Gerard said, risking a quick glance at the house. Then, he leaned closer once again and whispered in Frankie's ear, "My mom is trying to set up your mom on a blind date with some dude she plays bingo with."

"What the fuck?"

Frankie didn't really care about her mom's love life, but the prospect of having a man who wasn't her dad inside the house made her cringe. Besides, Frankie's mom shouldn't have been the one to go out on dates. She was too old to do that kind of stuff. She was too old to have a boyfriend. Especially now that Frankie wouldn't be able to see her boyfriend all fucking summer. This was unfair and wrong on so many levels.

"My mom likes doing that kind of shit," Gerard said as he sat up and shifted in the wet grass to pat the seat of his jeans.

"Should I be worried?" Frankie asked, looking up at Gerard as he scrunched up his nose and wiped his wet hand on his already dirty jeans. She crawled up on her elbows and knees and sat between Gerard's spread legs. "I mean, this guy could be a fucking serial killer or a complete douche," she pointed out, squirming into a more comfortable position and putting her head down in his lap.

Gerard shrugged as he offered, "He plays bingo, so I don't think he's that bad of a human being."

Frankie was about to mock Gerard - because who the fuck played bingo besides really old or really lame people or possibly Charles Manson - when he started petting her hair, just the way she liked it, his fingers twisting and pulling slightly.

She knew her mom was probably about to interrupt them and tell them public displays of affections were disgusting and scandalous, but for a moment Frankie forgot everything. She forgot that Gerard was only there to say goodbye to her and that he should have been on the road about thirty minutes ago.

"Oh, oh." Gerard's hand stopped moving. "Do you see this one?" he asked, pointing at another cluster of cottony clouds with a lopsided smile. "It sort of looks like Wolverine. Adamantium claws and everything."

Frankie squinted, but all she could see was Freddy Krueger slashing through someone's chest. Guts, gore, everything. It was pretty fucking sweet. When she looked at Gerard, he was staring at her, expecting her to say something. "Yeah," she sighed. "Yeah, it does."

Gerard's smile widened.

"I'm gonna miss you so much," he said as he dug out his pack of Marlboros from the front pocket of his jacket and stuck one between Frankie's lips.

"You're not moving to fucking Guam," she mumbled, the cigarette dangling from her mouth while Gerard was attempting to light it. "I even heard they have phones in New York." She exhaled, pulling the cigarette away from her lips and sticking it between Gerard's.

He took a drag and smiled at her through the smoke. It felt forced, but Frankie didn't have anything else to offer to make him feel better.

"I'm gonna call you so fucking much that your mom's gonna hate my guts," he said, leaning over her and grabbing her face between his hands. He kissed the tip of her nose and Frankie rolled around, lying flat on her belly, her hand clasped around Gerard's knees.

"Don't worry about it," Frankie said as she climbed up and sat into Gerard's lap, straddling him and kissing his lips and his chin, tracing the curves of his lips with her index finger. She used her sexiest, raspy, heavy smoker voice to say, "She already hates your guts, baby." She kissed his shiny red lips before adding, "So calling her daughter," another kiss, "on the phone," a flick of her tongue at his open mouth, "at three in the morning," a quick nibble on his upper lip, "every night," a groan, "isn't gonna change a thing."

"Good to know," Gerard choked as he lay back down, his breathing a little too fast and erratic.

As soon as Frankie lay on top of him, her knee rubbing against his inner thigh, her tongue licking the underside of his jaw, she heard the front door open. She chose to ignore it, though, kissing Gerard as if it was the last time she would ever kiss him.


End file.
